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THE  PEACE  EGG 

AND 

A    CHRISTMAS    MUMMING    PLAY. 


••  He  gave  her  her  choice  between  the  Captain  and  his  own  favour  an.'  money. 
She  chose  the  Captain."— Page  7. 


FrtntitpUcc. 


THE    PEACE    EGG 


AND 


%  Qristmas  llttmming  flag 


BY   THE   LATE 


JULIANA     HORATIA   ,EWING 

AUTHOR   OF    "jackanapes,"    ETC.,    ETC.,    ETC. 


WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS    BY    GORDON    BROWNE 


ENGRAVED   AND    PRINTED    BY   EDMUND   EVANS. 


LONDON 

SOCIETY    FOR    PROMOTING 
CHRISTIAN      KNOWLEDGE 

NEW  YORK  AND  TORONTO  :  THE  MACMILLAN  CO. 


ENGRAVED    AND    I'KIN  I'KU    8' 

EDMUND    EVANS,    LTD. 

ROSE    PLACE,    GLOBE   ROAD, 

LONDON,    B. 


THE   PEACE   EGG. 


A    CHRISTMAS    TALE. 


VERY  one  ought  to  be  happy 
at  Christmas.  But  there  are 
many  things  which  ought  to  be, 
and  yet  are  not ;  and  people 
are  sometimes  sad  even  in  the 
Christmas  hoHdays. 

The  Captain  and  his  wife  were 

sad,    though    it   was    Christmas 

Eve.     Sad,  though  they  were  in 

the   prime  of  life,  blessed   with 

y  >  fj    iw//w/&r''''-''^^d^''\  ijood    health,    devoted    to    each 

L^/  Wmmii  "     il  other  and  to  their  children,  with 

competent  means,  a  comfortable 
house  on  a  little  freehold  pro- 
perty of  their  own,  and,  one 
might  say,  everything  that  heart 
could  desire.  Sad,  though  they 
were  good  people,  whose  peace  of  mind  had  a  firmer 
foundation  than  their  earthly  goods  alone ;  contented 
people,  too,  with  plenty  of  occupation  for  mind  and  body. 
Sad — and  in  the  nursery  this  was  held  to  be  past  all  reason 
— though  the  children  were  performing  that  ancient  and 
most  entertaining  Play  or  Christmas  Mystery  of  Good  St 
George  of  England,  known  as  T/ie  Peace  Egg,  for  theit 
benefit  and  behoof  alone. 

The  play  was  none  the  worse  that  most  of  the  actorj: 
were  too  young  to  learn  parts,  so  that  there  was  very  little 
of  the  rather  tedious  dialogue,  only  plenty  of  dress  and 
ribbons,  and  of  fighting  with  the  wooden  swords.  But 
though   St.  George  looked    bonny  enough   to  warm   any 


379 


6  THINKING   OF   THE   DAYS 

father's  heart,  as  he  marched  up  and  down  with  an  air 
learned  by  watching  many  a  parade  in  barrack-square  and 
drill-ground,  and  though  the  Valiant  Slasher  did  not  cry  in 
spite  of  falling  hard  and  the  Doctor  treading  accidentally 
on  his  little  finger  in  picking  him  up,  still  the  Captain  and 
his  wife  sighed  nearly  as  often  as  they  smiled,  and  the 
mother  dropped  tears  as  well  as  pennies  into  the  cap  which 
the  King  of  Egypt  brought  round  after  the  performance. 

The  Captain's  Wife. 


her. 


ANY  many  years 
back  the  Captain's 
wife  had  been  a 
child  herself,  and 
had  laughed  to  see 
the  village  mum- 
mers act  the  Peace 
Egg,  and  had  been 
quite  happy  on 
Christmas  Eve. 
Happy,  though  she 
had  no  mother. 
Happy,  though  he 
father  was  a  stern 
man,  very  fond  oi 
his  only  child,  but 
with  an  obstinate 
will  that  not  even 
she  dared  thwart. 
She  had  lived  to 
thwart  it,  and  he 
had  never  forgiven 
It  was  when  she  married  the  Captain.    The  old  man  had 


THAT   ARE    NU   MORE.  7 

a  prejudice  against  soldiers,  which  was  quite  reason  enough, 
in  his  opinion,  for  his  daughter  to  sacrifice  the  happiness  of 
her  future  life  by  giving  up  the  soldier  she  loved.  At  last 
he  gave  her  her  choice  between  the  Captain  and  his  own 
favour  and  money.  She  chose  the  Captain,  and  was  dis- 
owned and  disinherited. 

The  Captain  bore  a  high  character,  and  was  a  good  and 
clever  officer,  but  that  went  for  nothing  against  the  old 
man's  whim.  He  made  a  very  good  husband  too  ;  but 
even  this  did  not  move  his  father-in-law,  who  had  never 
held  any  intercourse  with  him  or  his  wife  since  the  day  of 
their  marriage,  and  who  had  never  seen  his  own  grand- 
children. Though  not  so  bitterly  prejudiced  as  the  old 
father,  the  Captain's  wife's  friends  had  their  doubts  about 
the  marriage.  The  place  was  not  a  military  station,  and 
tuey  vi>eie  quiet  country  folk  who  knew  very  little  about 
soldiers,  whilst  what  they  imagined  was  not  altogether 
favourable  to  "  red-coats,"  as  they  called  them.  Soldiers 
are  well-looking  generally,  it  is  true  (and  the  Captain  was 
more  than  well-looking — he  was  handsome)  ;  brave,  of 
course,  it  is  their  business  (and  the  Captain  had  V.C.  after 
his  name  and  several  bits  of  ribbon  on  his  patrol  jacket). 
But  then,  thought  the  good  people,  they  are  here  to-day 
and  gone  to-morrow,  you  "  never  know  where  you  have 
them  ; '  they  are  probably  in  debt,  possibly  married  to 
several  women  in  several  foreign  countries,  and,  though 
they  are  very  courteous  in  societ}-,  v*ho  knows  how  they 
treat  their  wives  when  they  drag  them  off  from  their  natural 
friends  and  protectors  to  distant  lands  where  no  one  can 
call  them  to  account  ? 

"Ah,  poor  thing!"  said  Mrs.  John  Bull,  junior,  as  she 
took  off  her  husband's  coat  on  his  return  from  business,  a 
week  after  the  Captain's  wedding,  "I  wonder  how  she  feels? 
There's  no  doubt  the  old  man  behaved  disgracefully  ;  but 
it's  a  great  risk  marrying  a  soldier.      It  stands  to  reason, 


S  THE   LAW   OF   COMPENSATION. 

military  men  aren't  domestic;  and  I  wish — Lucy  Jane, 
fetch  your  papa's  slippers,  quick ! — she'd  had  the  sense  to 
settle  down  comfortably  amongst  her  friends  with  a  man 
who  would  have  taken  care  of  her." 

"Officers  are  a  wild  set,  I  expect,"  said  Mr.  Bull,  com- 
placently, as  he  stretched  his  limbs  in  his  own  particular 
armchair,  into  which  no  member  of  his  family  ever  in- 
truded. "  But  the  red-coats  carry  the  day  with  plenty  of 
girls  who  ought  to  know  better.  You  women  are  always 
caught  by  a  bit  of  finery.  However,  there's  no  use  our 
bothering  our  heads  about  it.  As  she  has  brewed  she  must 
bake." 

The  Captain's  wife's  baking  was  lighter  and  more 
palatable  than  her  friends  believed.  The  Captain  (who 
took  off  his  own  coat  when  he  came  home,  and  never  wore 
slippers  but  in  his  dressing-room)  was  domestic  enough. 
A  selfish  companion  must,  doubtless,  be  a  great  trial  amid 
the  hardships  of  military  life,  but  when  a  soldier  is  kind- 
hearted,  he  is  often  a  much  more  helpiul  and  thoughtful 
and  handy  husband  man  any  equally  well-meaning  civilian. 
Amid  the  ups  and  downs  of  their  wanderings,  the  dis- 
comforts of  shipboard  and  of  stations  in  the  colonies,  bad 
servants,  and  unwonted  sicknesses,  the  Captain's  tenderness 
never  failed.  If  the  life  was  rough  the  Captain  was  ready. 
He  had  been,  by  turns,  in  one  strait  or  another,  sick-nurse, 
doctor,  carpenter,  nursemaid,  and  cook  to  hi?  family,  and 
had,  moreover,  an  idea  that  nobody  filled  these  offices  quite 
so  well  as  himself  Withal,  his  very  profession  kept  him 
neat,  well-dressed,  and  active.  In  the  roughest  of  their 
ever-changing  quarters  he  was  a  smarter  man,  more  like 
the  lover  of  his  wife'«;  young  days,  than  Mr.  Bull  amid  hi.i 
stationary  comfort.s.  Then  if  the  Captain's  wife  was — a. 
her  friends  said  — "  never  settled,"  she  was  also  for  ever 
entertained  by  new  scenes  ;  and  domestic  mischances  do 
not  weigh  very  heavily  on  people  whose    possessions  are 


CIECO  E  l'occhio,  se  l'animo  E  DISTRATTO        9 

few  and  their  intellectual  interests  many.  It  is  true  that 
there  were  ladies  in  the  Captain's  regiment  who  passed  by- 
sea  and  land  from  one  quarter  of  the  globe  to  another, 
amid  strange  climates  and  customs,  strange  trees  and 
flowers,  beasts  and  birds,  from  the  glittering  snows  of 
North  America  to  the  orchids  of  the  Cape,  from  beautiful 
Pera  to  the  lily-covered  hills  of  Japan,  and  who  in  no 
place  rose  above  the  fret  of  domestic  worries,  and  had  little 
to  tell  on  their  return  but  of  the  universal  misconduct  of 
servants,  from  Irish  "helps"  in  the  colonies,  to  compradors 
and  China-boys  at  Shanghai.  But  it  was  not  so  with  ^he. 
Captain's  wife.  Moreover,  one  becomes  accustoDv^  to 
one's  fate,  and  she  moved  her  whole  establishment  from 
the  Curragh  to  Corfu  with  less  anxiety  than  that  felt  by 
Mrs.  Bull  over  a  port-wine  stain  on  the  best  table-cloth. 

And  yet,  as  years  went  and  chi'dren  came,  the  Captain 
and  his  wife  grew  tired  of  travelling.  New  scenes  were 
small  comfort  when  they  heard  of  the  death  of  old  friends. 
One  foot  of  murky  English  sky  was  dearer,  after  all,  than 
miles  of  the  unclouded  heavens  of  the  South.  The  grey 
hills  and  over-grcwn  lanes  of  her  old  home  haunted  the 
Captain's  wife  by  night  and  day,  and  home-sickness  (that 
weariest  of  all  sicknesses)  began  to  take  the  light  out  of 
her  eyes  before  their  time.  It  preyed  upon  the  Captain 
too.  Now  and  then  he  would  say,  fretfully,  "  I  should  like 
an  English  resting-place,  however  small,  before  everybody 
is  dead !  But  the  children's  prospects  have  to  be  con- 
sidered." The  continued  estrangement  from  the  old  man 
was  an  abiding  sorrow  also,  and  they  had  hopes  that,  if 
only  they  could  get  to  England,  he  might  be  persuaded  to 
peace  and  charity  this  time. 

At  last  they  were  sent  home.  But  the  hard  old  father 
still  would  not  relent.  He  returned  their  letters  unopened. 
This  bitter  disappointment  made  the  Captain's  wife  so  ill 
that  she  almost  died,  and  in  one  month  the  Captain's  hair 


lO  IT   IS   DARKEST   BEFORE   DAWN. 

became  iron  grey.     He  reproached  himself  for  having  ever 

taken  the  daughter  from  her  father,  "  to  kill  her  at  last,"  as 
he  said.  And  (thinking  of  his  own  children)  he  even  re- 
proached himself  for  having  robbed  the  old  widower  of  his 
onh'  child.  After  two  years  at  home  his  regiment  was 
ordered  to  India.  He  failed  to  effect  an  exchange,  and 
they  prepared  to  move  once  more — from  Chatham  to  Cal- 
cutta. Never  before  had  the  packing  to  which  she  was  so 
well  accustomed,  been  so  bitter  a  task  to  the  Captain's  wife. 

It  was  at  the  darkest  hour  of  this  gloomy  time  that  the 
Captain  came  in,  waving  above  his  head  a  letter  which 
changed  all  their  plans. 

New  close  by  the  old  home  of  the  Captain's  wife  there 
had  lived  a  man,  much  older  than  herself,  who  yet  had 
loved  her  with  a  devotion  as  great  as  that  of  the  young 
Captain.  She  never  knew  it,  for  v/hen  he  saw  that  she 
had  given  her  heart  to  his  younger  rival,  he  kept  silence, 
and  he  never  asked  for  what  he  knew  he  might  have  had — 
the  old  man's  authority  in  his  favour.  So  generous  was 
the  affection  which  he  could  never  conquer,  that  he  con- 
stantly tried  to  reconcile  the  father  to  his  children  whilst 
he  lived,  and,  when  he  died,  he  bequeathed  his  house  and 
small  estate  to  the  woman  he  had  loved. 

"It  will  be  a  legacy  of  peace,"  he  thought,  on  his  death- 
bed. "  The  old  man  cannot  hold  out  when  she  and  her 
children  are  constantly  in  sight.  And  it  may  please  GOD 
that  I  shall  know  of  the  reunion  J  have  not  been  permitted 
to  see  with  my  eyes." 

And  thus  it  came  about  that  the  Captain's  regiment 
went  to  India  without  him,  and  that  the  Captain's  wife  and 
her  father  lived  on  opposite  sides  of  the  same  road. 


WHO   GOES   THERE? 


Master  Robert. 


HE  eldest  of  the  Captain's 
children  was  a  boy.  He  was 
named  Robert,  after  his  grand- 
father, and  seemed  to  have  in- 
herited a  good  deal  of  the  old 
gentleman's  character,  mixed 
with  gentler  traits.  He  was  a 
fair,  fine  boy,  tall  and  stout  for 
his  age,  with  the  Captain's 
regular  features,  and  (he  flat- 
tered himself)  the  Captain's 
firm  step  and  martial  bearing. 
He  was  apt — like  his  grand- 
father— to  hold  his  own  will  to 
be  other  people's  law,  and 
(happily  for  the  peace  of  the 
nursery)  this  opinion  was  de- 
voutly shared  by  his  brother 
Nicholas.  Though  the  Captain  had  sold  his  commission, 
Robin  continued  to  command  an  irregular  force  of  volun- 
teers in  the  nursery,  and  never  was  colonel  more  despotic. 
His  brothers  and  sister  were  by  turn  infantry,  cavalry, 
engineers,  and  artillery,  according  to  his  whim,  and  when 
his  affections  finally  settled  upon  the  Highlanders  of  "The 
Black  Watch,"  no  female  power  could  compel  him  to  keep 
his  stockings  above  his  knees,  or  his  knickerbockers  below 
them. 

The  Captain  alone  was  a  match  for  his  strong-willed 


son. 


"  If  you  please,  sir,"  said  Sarah,  one  morning,  flouncing 


12  ALL'S   WELL  1 

in  Upon  the  Captain,  just  as  he  was  about  to  start  for  the 
neighbouring  town, — "  If  you  please,  sir,  I  wish  you'd  speak 
to  Master  Robert.      He's  past  my  powers." 

"  I've  no  doubt  of  it,"  thought  the  Captain,  but  he  only 
said,  "Well,  what's  the  matter?" 

"Night  after  night  do  I  put  him  to  bed,"  said  Sarah, 
"and  night  after  night  does  he  get  up  as  soon  as  I'm  out  of 
the  room,  and  says  he's  orderly  officer  for  the  evening,  and 
goes  about  in  his  night-shirt  and  his  feet  as  bare  as 
boards." 

The  Captain  fingered  his  heavy  moustache  to  hide  a 
smile,  but  he  listened  patiently  to  Sarah's  complaints. 

"  It  ain't  so  much  him  I  should  mind,  sir,"  she  con- 
tinued, "but  he  goes  round  the  beds  and  wakes  up  the 
other  young  gentlemen  and  Miss  Dora,  one  after  another, 
and  when  I  speak  to  him,  he  gives  me  all  the  sauce  he  can 
lay  his  tongue  to,  and  says  he's  going  round  the  guards. 
The  other  night  I  tried  to  put  him  back  in  his  bed,  but 
he  got  away  and  ran  all  over  the  house,  me  hunting  him 
everywhere,  and  not  a  sign  of  him,  till  he  jumps  out  on  me 
from  the  garret-stairs  and  nearly  knocks  me  down.  •  I've 
visited  the  outposts,  Sarah,'  says  he  ;  'all's  well.'  And  off 
he  goes  to  bed  as  bold  as  brass." 

"  Have  you  spoken  to  your  mistress  ? "  asked  the 
Captain. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Sarah.  "  And  mi.ssis  spoke  to  him,  and 
he  promised  not  to  go  round  the  guards  again." 

"  Has  he  broken  his  promise  ?  "  asked  the  Captain,  with 
a  look  of  anger,  and  also  of  surprise. 

"When  I  opened  the  door  last  night,  sir,"  continued 
Sarah,  in  her  shrill  treble,  "  what  should  I  .see  in  the  dark 
but  Master  Robert  a-walking  up  and  down  with  the  carpet- 
brush  stuck  in  his  arm.  '  Who  goes  there?'  says  he.  '  You 
owdacious  boy!'  .says  I,  'Didn't  you  promise  your  ma  you'd 
leave  off  them  tricks?'     '  I'm  not  going  round  the  guards,' 


I'm  for  sentry-duty  to-night     .     .     .      You  mustn't  speak  to  a 
sentry  on  duty.'  "—Page  14. 


14  DUTY'S    IRON    CROWN. 

says  he  ;  '  I  promised  not.  But  I'm  for  sentry-duty  to- 
night.' And  say  what  I  would  to  him,  all  he  had  for  me 
was,  '  You  mustn't  speak  to  a  sentry  on  duty.'  So  I  says, 
'  As  sure  as  I  live  till  morning,  I'll  go  to  your  pa,'  for  he 
pays  no  more  attention  to  his  ma  than  to  me,  nor  to  any 
one  else." 

"  Please  to  see  that  the  chair-bed  in  my  dressing-room 
is  moved  into  your  mistress's  bedroom,"  said  the  Captain. 
"  I  will  attend  to  Master  Robert." 

With  this  Sarah  had  to  content  herself,  and  she  went 
back  to  the  nursery.  Robert  was  nowhere  to  be  seen,  and 
made  no  reply  to  her  summons.  On  this  the  unwary 
nursemaid  flounced  into  the  bedroom  to  look  for  him, 
when  Robert,  who  was  hidden  beneath  a  table,  darted 
forth,  and  promptly  locked  her  in. 

"  You're  under  arrest,"  he  shouted,  thi'ough  the  keyhole. 

"  Let  me  out !"  shrieked  Sarah. 

"  I'll  send  a  file  of  the  guard  to  fetch  you  to  the  orderly- 
room,  by-and-by,"  said  Robert,  "  for  '  preferring  frivolous 
complaints.' "  And  he  departed  to  the  farmyard  to  look 
at  the  duck.s. 

That  night,  when  Robert  went  up  to  bed,  tke  Captain 
quietly  locked  him  into  his  dressing-room,  from  which  the 
bed  had  been  removed. 

"  You're  for  sentry  duty,  to-night,"  .said  the  Captain. 
"  The  carpet-brush  is  in  the  corner.     Good-evening." 

As  his  father  anticipated,  Robert  was  soo»i  tired  of  the 
sentry  game  in  these  new  circumstances,  and  long  before 
the  night  had  half  worn  away  he  wished  himself  safely 
undressed  and  in  his  own  comfortable  bed.  At  half-past 
twelve  o'clock  he  felt  as  if  he  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and 
knocked  at  the  Captain's  door. 

"  Who  goes  there  ?"  said  the  Captain. 

"  Mayn't  I  go  to  bed,  please?"  whined  poor  Robert. 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  the  Captain      "  You're  on  duty." 


DARKIE. 


15 


And  on  duty  poor  Robert  had  to  remain,  for  the 
Captain  had  a  will  as  well  as  his  son.  So  he  rolled  him- 
self up  in  his  father's  railway  rug,  and  slept  on  the  floor. 

The  next  night  he  was  very  glad  to  go  quietly  to  bed, 
and  remain  there. 

In  the  Nursery. 


v;:rps  HE  Captain's  children  sat 
at  breakfast  in  a  large, 
bright  nursery.  It  was 
the  room  where  the  old 
bachelor  had  died,  and 
now  Jier  children  made  it 
merry.  This  was  just  what 
he  would  have  wished. 

They  all  sat  round  the 
table,  for  it  was  breakfast- 
time.  There  were  five  of 
them,  and  five  bo\^'ls  of 
boiled  bread  -  and  -  milk 
smoked  before  them.  Sarah 
(a  foolish,  gossipping  girl, 
who  acted  as  nurse  till 
better  could  be  found)  was 
waiting  on  them,  and  by 
the  table  sat  Darkie,  the 
black  retriever,  his  long, 
curly  back  swaying  slightly 
from  the  difficulty  of  holding  himself  up,  and  his  solemn 
hazel  eyes  fixed  very  intently  on  each  and  all  of  the 
breakfast  bowls.     He  was  as  silent  and  sagacious  as  Sarah 


1 6  PAX. 

was  talkative  and  empty-headed.  The  expression  of  his 
face  was  that  of  King  Charles  I.  as  painted  by  Vandyke. 
Though  large,  he  was  unassuming.  Pax,  the  pug,  on  the 
contrary,  who  came  up  to  the  first  joint  of  Darkie's  leg, 
stood  defiantly  on  his  dignity  (and  his  short  stumps).  He 
always  placed  himself  in  front  of  the  bigger  dog,  and  made 
a  point  of  hustling  him  in  doorways  and  of  going  first 
downstairs.  He  strutted  like  a  beadle,  and  carried  his  tail 
more  tightly  curled  than  a  bishop's  crook.  He  looked,  as 
one  may  imagine  the  frog  in  the  fable  would  have  looked, 
had  he  been  able  to  swell  himself  rather  nearer  to  the  size 
of  the  ox.  This  was  partly  due  to  his  very  prominent 
eyes,  and  partly  to  an  obesity  favoured  by  habits  of  lying 
inside  the  fender,  and  of  eating  meals  proportioned  more  to 
his  consequence  than  to  his  hunger.  They  were  both 
favourites  of  two  years'  standing,  and  had  very  nearly  been 
given  away,  when  the  good  news  came  of  an  English  home 
for  the  family,  dogs  and  all. 

Robert's  tongue  was  seldom  idle,  even  at  meals.  "  Are 
you  a  Yorkshirewoman,  Sarah  ? "  he  asked,  pausing,  with 
his  spoon  full  in  his  hand. 

"  No,  Master  Robert,"  said  Sarah. 

"  But  you  understand  Yorkshire,  don't  you  ?  1  can't, 
very  often  ;  but  Mamma  can,  and  can  speak  it,  too.  Papa 
says  Mamma  always  talks  Yorkshire  to  servants  and  poor 
people.  She  used  to  talk  Yorkshire  to  Themistocles,  Papa 
said,  and  he  said  it  was  no  good  ;  for  though  Themistocles 
knew  a  lot  of  languages,  he  didn't  know  that.  And 
Mamma  laughed,  and  said  she  didn't  know  she  did." — 
"  Themistocles  was  our  man-servant  in  Corfu,"  Robin 
added,  in  explanation.  "  He  stole  lots  of  things,  Themis- 
tocles did  ;  but  Papa  found  him  out." 

Robin  now  made  a  rapid  attack  on  his  bread-and-milk, 
after  which  he  broke  out  again. 

"  Sarah,  who  is  that  tall  old  gentleman  at  church,  in  tk« 


THE   CHILD   SAITH    NOTHING  1/ 

seat  near  the  pulpit?  He  wears  a  cloak  like  what  the 
Blues  wear,  only  all  blue,  and  is  tall  enough  for  a  Life- 
guardsman.  He  stood  when  we  were  kneeling  down,  and 
said.  Almighty  and  most  merciful  Father  louder  than  any- 
body." 

Sarah  knew  who  the  old  gentleman  was,  and  knew  also 
that  the  children  did  not  know,  and  that  their  parents  did 
not  see  fit  to  tell  them  as  yet.  But  she  had  a  passion  for 
telling  and  hearing  news,  and  would  rather  gossip  with  a 
child  than  not  gossip  at  all.  "Never  you  mind,  Master 
Robin,"  she  said,  nodding  sagaciously.  "  Little  boys  aren't 
to  know  everything." 

"  Ah,  then,  I  know  you  don't  know,"  replied  Robert ; 
"  if  you  did,  you'd  tell.  Nicholas,  give  some  of  your  bread 
to  Darkie  and  Pax.  I've  done  mine.  For  what  we  have 
received  the  Lord  make  us  truly  thankful  Say  your  grace 
and  put  your  chair  away,  and  come  along.  I  want  to  hold 
a  court-martial."  And  seizing  his  own  chair  by  the  seat, 
Robin  carried  it  swiftly  to  its  corner.  As  he  passed  Sarah 
he  observed  tauntingly,  "You  pretend  to  know,  but  you 
don't" 

"  I  do,"  said  Sarah. 

"  You  don't,"  said  Robin. 

"Your  ma's  forbid  you  to  contradict,  Master  Robin," 
said  Sarah  ;  "  and  if  you  do  I  shall  tell  her.  I  know  well 
enough  who  the  old  gentleman  is,  and  perhaps  I  might  tell 
you,  only  you'd  go  straight  off  and  tell  again." 

"No,  no,  I  wouldn't!"  shouted  Robin.  "I  can  keep 
a  secret,'  indeed  I  can  !  Pinch  my  little  finger,  and  try. 
Do,  do  tell  me,  Sarah,  there's  a  dear  Sarah,  and  then  I 
shall  know  you  know."  And  he  danced  round  her,  catching 
at  her  skirts. 

To  keep  a  secret  was  beyond  Sarah's  powers. 

"  Do  let  my  dress  be.  Master  Robin,"  she  said,  "  you're 
ripping  out  all  the   gathers,  and   listen  while  I  whisper. 


1 8  BUT   WHAT   HE   HEARD   AT   THE   FIRESIDE. 

As   sure   as   you're   a   living   boy,  that   gentleman's  your 
own  grandpapa." 

Robin  lost  his  hold  on  Sarah's  dress  ;  his  arms  fell  by 
his  side,  and  he  stood  with  his  brows  knit  for  some 
minutes,  thinking.  Then  he  said,  emphatically,  "  What 
lies  you  do  tell,  Sarah  !" 

"Oh,  Robin  !"  cried  Nicholas,  who  had  drawn  near,  his 
thick  curls  standing  stark  with  curiosity,  "  Mamma  said 
'  lies '  wasn't  a  proper  word,  and  you  promised  not  to  say  it 
again." 

"  I  forgot,"  said  Robin.  "  I  didn't  mean  to  break  my 
promise.     But  she  does  tell — ahem  ! — yon  know  what." 

"You  wicked  boy!"  cried  the  enraged  Sarah;  "how 
dare  you  to  say  such  a  thing,  and  everybody  in  the  place 
knows  he's  your  ma's  own  pa." 

"  I'll  go  and  ask  her,"  said  Robin,  and  he  was  at  the 
door  in  a  moment ;  but  Sarah,  alarmed  by  the  thought  of 
getting  into  a  scrape  herself,  caught  him  by  the  arm. 

"  Don't  you  go,  love  ;  it'll  only  make  your  ma  angry. 
There  ;  it  was  all  my  nonsense." 

"Then  it's  not  true?"  said  Robin,  indignantly.     "What 
did  you  tell  me  so  for?" 

"It  was  all  my  jokes  and  nonsense,"  said  the  unscru- 
pulous Sarah.  "  But  your  ma  wouldn't  like  to  know  I've 
said  such  a  thing.  And  Master  Robert  wouldn't  be  so 
mean  as  to  tell  tales,  would  he,  love?" 

"I'm  not  mean,"  said  Robin,  stoutly;  "and  I  don't 
tell  tales  ;  but  you  do,  and  you  \.c\\  you  know  ivhat,  besides. 
However,  I  won't  go  this  time  ;  but  I'll  tell  you  what — if 
you  tell  tales  of  me  to  Papa  any  more,  I'll  tell  him  what  you 
said  about  the  old  gentleman  in  the  blue  cloak."  With 
which  parting  threat  Robin  strode  off  to  join  his  brothers 
and  sister. 

Sarah's  tale  had  put  the  court-martial  out  of  his  head, 
a:id  he  leaned  against  the  tall  fender,  gazing  at  his  little 


FOR   OLD   SAKE'S   SAKE  I9 

sister,  who  was  tenderly  nursing  a  well-worn  doll.  Robin 
sighed. 

"  What  a  long  time  that  doll  takes  to  wear  out,  Dora !" 
said  he.     "  When  will  it  be  done?" 

"  Oh,  not  yet,  not  yet !"  cried  Dora,  clasping  the  doll  to 
her,  and  turning  away.     "  She's  quite  good,  yet." 

"  How  miserly  you  are,"  said  her  brother ;  "  and  selfish, 
too ;  for  you  know  I  can't  have  a  military  funeral  till  you'll 
let  me  bury  that  old  thing." 

Dora  began  to  cry. 

'•There  you  go,  crying!"  said  Robin,  impatiently. 
''  Look  here :  I  won't  take  it  till  you  get  the  new  one  on 
your  birthday.  You  can't  be  so  mean  as  not  to  let  me 
have  it  then  !" 

But  Dora's  tears  still  fell.  "  I  love  this  one  so  much," 
she  sobbed.     "  I  love  her  better  than  the  new  one," 

"  You  want  both ;  that's  it,"  said  Robin,  angrily. 
"  Dora,  you're  the  meanest  girl  I  ever  knew  !" 

At  which  unjust  and  painful  accusation  Dora  threw 
herself  and  the  doll  upon  their  faces,  and  wept  bitterly. 
The  eyes  of  the  soft-hearted  Nicholas  began  to  fill  with 
tears,  and  he  squatted  down  before  her,  looking  most 
dismal.  He  had  a  fellow-feeling  for  her  attachment  to 
an  old  toy,  and  yet  Robin's  will  was  law  to  him. 

''  Couldn't  we  make  a  coffin,  and  pretend  the  body  was 
inside?"  he  suggested. 

"  No,  we  couldn't,"  said  Robin.  "  I  wouldn't  play  the 
Dead  March  after  an  empty  candle-box.  It's  a  great 
shame — and  I  promised  she  should  be  chaplain  in  one  of 
my  night-gowns,  too." 

"  Perhaps  you'll  get  just  as  fond  of  the  new  one,"  said 
Nicholas,  turning  to  Dora. 

But  Dora  only  cried,  "  No,  no !  He  shall  have  the 
new  one  to  bury,  and  I'll  keep  my  poor,  dear,  darling 
Betsy."     And  she  clasped  Betsy  tighter  than  before. 


20 


THE    PRETTIEST   DOLL   IN    THE   WORLD. 


"  That's  the  meanest  thing  you've  said  yet,"  rctcrr.cd 
Robin  ;  "  for  you  know  Mamma  wouldn't  let  me  bury  tne 
new  one."  And,  with  an  air  of  great  disgust,  he  quitted 
the  nursery. 


"A  Mumming  We  will  Go." 


ICHOLAS  had  sore  work 
to  console  his  little  sister, 
and  Betsy's  prospects  were 
in  a  very  unfavourable  state, 
when  a  diversion  was  caused 
in  her  favour  by  a  new  whim 
which  put  the  military 
funeral  out  of  Robin's  head. 
After  Le  left  the  nursery 
he  strolled  out  of  doors, 
and,  peeping  through  the 
gate  at  the  end  of  the 
drive,  he  saw  a  party  of 
boys  going  through  what 
looked  like  a  militar}'  exer- 
cise with  sticks  and  a  good 
deal  of  stamping  ;  but, 
instead  of  mere  words  of 
command,  they  all  spoke 
by  turns,  as  in  a  play.  In  spite  of  their  strong  Yorkshire 
accent,  Robin  overheard  a  good  deal,  and  it  sounded  very 
fine.  Not  being  at  all  shy,  he  joined  them,  and  asked  so 
many  questions  that  he  soon  got  to  know  all  about  it. 
They  were  practising  a  Christmas  mumming-play,  called 
"  The  Peace  Egg."  Why  it  was  called  thus  they  could  not 
tell  him,  as  there  was  nothing  whatever  about  eggs  in  it, 
and  so  far  from   being  a  play  of  peace,  it  was  made  up 


THE   SPORTS   OF   CHILDREN  21 

of  a  series  of  battles  between  certain  valiant  knights  and 
princes,  of  whom  St.  George  of  England  was  the  chief 
and  conqueror.  The  rehearsal  being  over,  Robin  went 
with  the  boys  to  the  sexton's  house  (he  was  father  to  the 
"  King  of  Egypt ")  where  they  showed  him  the  dresses 
they  were  to  wear.  These  were  made  of  gay-coloured 
materials,  and  covered  with  ribbons,  except  that  of  the 
"  Black  Prince  of  Paradine,"  which  was  black,  as  became 
his  title.  The  boys  also  showed  him  the  book  from  which 
they  learned  their  parts,  and  which  was  to  be  bought  for 
one  penny  at  the  post-office  shop. 

"  Then  are  you  the  mummers  who  come  round  at 
Christmas,  and  act  in  people's  kitchens,  and  people  give 
them  money,  that  Mamma  used  to  tell  us  about?"  said 
Robin. 

St.  George  of  England  looked  at  his  companions  as 
if  for  counsel  as  to  how  far  they  might  commit  themselves, 
and  then  replied,  with  Yorkshire  caution,  "  Well,  I  suppose 
we  are." 

"  And  do  you  go  out  in  the  snow  from  one  house  to 
another  at  night;  and  oh,  don't  you  enjoy  it?"  cried 
Robin. 

"  We  like  it  well  enough,"  St.  George  admitted. 

Robin  bought  a  copy  of  "  The  Peace  Egg."  He 
was  resolved  to  have  a  nursery  performance,  and  to  act 
the  part  of  St.  George  himself  The  others  were  willing 
for  what  he  wished,  but  there  were  difficulties.  In  the 
first  place,  there  are  eight  characters  in  the  play,  and  there 
were  only  live  children.  They  decided  among  themselves 
to  leave  out  the  "  Fool,"  and  Mamma  said  that  another 
character  was  not  to  be  acted  by  any  of  them,  or  indeed 
mentioned;  "the  little  one  who  comes  in  at  the  end." 
Robin  explained.  Mamma  had  her  reasons,  and  these 
were  always  good.  She  had  not  been  altogether  pleased 
that  Robin  I^-ad  bought  the  play.     It  was  a  very  old  thing, 


22  SATISFY   THE   CHILD. 

she  said,  and  very  queer  ;  not  adapted  for  a  child's  play. 
If  Mamma  thought  the  parts  not  quite  fit  for  the  children 
to  learn,  they  found  them  much  too  long  ;  so  in  the  end 
she  picked  out  some  bits  for  each,  which  they  learned 
easily,  and  which,  with  a  good  deal  of  fighting,  made  quite 
as  good  a  story  of  it  as  if  they  had  done  the  whole.  What 
may  have  been  wanting  otherwise  was  made  up  for  by  the 
dresses,  which  were  charming. 

Robin  was  St.  George,  Nicholas  the  valiant  Slasher, 
Dora  the  Doctor,  and  the  other  two  Hector  and  the  King 
of  Egypt.  "And  now  we've  no  Black  Prince!"  cried  Robin 
in  dismay. 

"  Let  Darkie  be  the  Black  Prince,"  said  Nicholas. 
"  When  you  wave  your  stick  he'll  jump  for  it,  and  then 
you  can  pretend  to  fight  with  him." 

"  It's  not  a  stick,  it's  a  sword,"  said  Robin.  "  However, 
Darkie  may  be  the  Black  Prince." 

"And  what's  Pax  to  be?"  asked  Dora  ;  "for  you  know 
he  will  come  if  Darkie  does,  and  he'll  run  in  before  every- 
body else  too." 

"  Then  he  must  be  the  Fool,"  said  Robin,  "  and  it  will 
do  very  well,  for  the  Fool  comes  in  before  the  rest,  and 
Pax  can  have  his  red  coat  on,  and  the  collar  with  the  little 
bells." 


\ 


WE  gamboll'd  making  vain  pretence     23 

Christmas  Eve. 

Yq)  OB  in  thought  that  Christmas  would 
never  come.  To  the  Captain 
and  his  wife  it  seemed  to  come 
too  fast.  They  had  hoped  it- 
might  bring  reconciliation  with 
the  old  man,  but  it  seemed  they 
had  hoped  in  vain. 

There  were  times  now  when 

the  Captain  almost  regretted  the 

old     bachelor's    bequest.       The 

familiar  scenes  of  her  old  home 

sharpened   his  wife's  grief.      To 

see  her  father  every  Sunday  in 

church,  with  marks  of  age  and 

injfirmity  upon  him,  but  with  not 

a  look  of  tenderness  for  his  only  child,  this  tried  her  sorely. 

"  She  felt  it  less  abroad,"  thought  the  Captain.     "  An 

English  home  in  which  she  frets  herself  to  death  is,  after 

all,  no  great  boon." 

Christmas  Eve  came. 

"  I'm  sure  it's  quite  Christmas  enough  now,"  said  Robin. 
"  We'll  have  '  The  Peace  Egg  '  to-night." 

So  as  the  Captain  and  his  wife  sat  sadly  over  their  fire, 
the  door  opened,  and  Pax  ran  in  shaking  his  bells,  and 
followed  by  the  nursery  mummers.  The  performance  was 
most  successful.  It  was  by  no  means  pathetic,  and  yet,  as 
has  been  said,  the  Captain's  wife  shed  tears. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Mamma?"  said  St.  George, 
abruptly  dropping  his  sword  and  running  up  to  her. 

"  Don't  tease  Mamma  with  questions,"  said  the  Captain ; 
"she  is  not  very  well,  and  rather  sad.  We  must  all  be  very 
kind  and  good  to  poor  dear  Mamma  ;"  and  the  Captain 
raised  his  wife's  hand  to  his  lips  as  he  spoke.     Robin  seized 


24  OF   GLADNESS. 

the  other  hand  and  kissed  it  tenderly.  He  was  very  fond 
of  his  mother.  At  this  moment  Pax  took  a  little  run,  and 
jumped  on  to  Mamma's  lap,  where,  sitting  facing  the  com- 
pany, he  opened  his  black  mouth  and  yawned,  with  a  ludi- 
crous inappropriateness  worthy  of  any  clown.  It  made 
everybody  laugh. 

"And  now  we'll  go  and  act  in  the  kitchen,"  said 
Nicholas. 

"  Supper  at  nine  o'clock,  remember,"  shouted  the  Cap- 
tain. "And  we  are  going  to  have  real  frumenty  and  Yule 
cakes,  such  as  Mamma  used  to  tell  us  of  when  we  were 
abroad." 

'  Hurray!"  shouted  the  mummers,  and  they  ran  off,  Pax 
leaping  from  his  seat  just  in  time  to  hustle  the  Black  Prince 
in  the  doorway.  When  the  dining-room  door  was  shut, 
St  George  raised  his  hand,  and  said  "  Hush  !" 

The  mummers  pricked  their  ears,  but  there  was  only  a 
distant  harsh  and  scraping  sound,  as  of  stones  rubbed 
together. 

"  They're  cleaning  the  passages,"  St.  George  went  on, 
'  and  Sarah  told  me  they  meant  to  finish  the  mistletoe,  and 
have  everything  cleaned  up  by  supper-time.  They  don't 
want  us,  I  know.  Look  here,  we'll  go  real  nuinnniug  in- 
stead.    That  will  be  fun  !" 

The  Valiant  Slasher  grinned  with  delight. 

"  But  will  Mamma  let  us?"  he  inquired. 

"  Oh,  it  will  be  all  right  if  we're  back  by  supper-time,'' 
said  St.  George,  hastily.  "  Only  of  course  we  must  take 
care  not  to  catch  cold.  Come  and  help  mc  to  get  some 
wraps. " 

The  old  oak  chest  in  which  spare  shawls,  rugs,  and 
coats  were  kept  was  soon  ransacked,  and  the  mummers' 
gay  dresses  hidden  by  motley  wrappers.  But  no  sooner 
did  Darkie  and  Pax  behold  the  coats,  &c.,  than  they  at 
once  began  to  leap  and  bark,  as  it  was  their  custom  to  do 


SNATCH   A   FEARFUL  JOY. 


25 


when  they  saw  any  one  dressing  to  go  out.  Robin  was 
sorely  afraid  that  this  would  betray  them  ;  but  though  the 
Captain  and  his  wife  heard  the  barking  they  did  not  guess 

the  cause. 

So  the  front  door  being  very  gently  opened  and  closed, 
the  nursery  mummers  stole  away. 


•^ 


The  Nursery  Mummers  and  the  Old  Man. 

T  was  a  very  fine  night. 
The  snow  was  well- 
trodden  on  the  drive,  so 
that  it  did  not  wet 
their  feet,  but  on  the 
trees  and  shrubs  it 
hung  soft  and  white. 

"  It's  much  jollier 
being  out  at  night 
than  in  the  daytime," 
said  Robin. 

"Much,"  responded 
Nicholas,  with  intense 
feeling. 

"  We'll  go  a  was- 
sailing next  week," 
said  Robin.  "  I  know 
all  about  it,  and  per- 
haps we  shall  get  a 
good  lot  of  money, 
and  then  we'll  buy  tin 
swords  with  scabbards 
for  next  year.  I  don't 
like  these  sticks.  Oh,  dear,  I  wish  it  wasn't  so  long 
between  one  Christmas  and  another." 


26  BY   NO    MEANS   VALIANT. 

"Where  shall  we  go  first?"  asked  Nicholas,  as  they 
turned  into  the  high  road.  But  before  Robin  could  rep'ij, 
Dora  clung  to  Nicholas,  crying,  "  Oh,  look  at  those 
men!" 

The  boys  looked  up  the  road,  down  which  three  men 
were  coming  in  a  very  unsteady  fashion,  and  shouting  as 
they  rolled  from  side  to  side. 

"They're  drunk,"  said  Nicholas;  "and  they're  shouting 
at  us." 

"Oh,  run,  run!"  cried  Dora;  and  down  the  road  they 
ran,  the  men  shouting  and  following  them.  They  had  not 
run  far,  when  Hector  caught  his  foot  in  the  Captain's  great- 
coat, which  he  was  wearing,  and  came  down  headlong 
in  the  road.  They  were  close  by  a  gate,  and  when 
Nicholas  had  set  Hector  upon  his  legs,  St.  George  hastily 
opened  it. 

"This  is  the  first  house,"  he  said.  "We'll  act  here;" 
and  all,  even  the  Valiant  Slasher,  pressed  in  as  quickly  as 
possible.  Once  safe  within  the  grounds,  they  shouldered 
their  sticks,  and  resumed  their  composure. 

"You're  going  to  the  front  door,"  said  Nicholas. 
"  Mummers  ought  to  go  to  the  back." 

"  We  don't  know  where  it  is,"  said  Robin,  and  he  rang 
the  front-door  bell.  There  was  a  pause.  Then  lights 
shone,  steps  were  heard,  and  at  last  a  sound  of  much 
unbarring,  unbolting,  and  unlocking.  It  might  have  been 
a  prison.  Then  the  door  was  opened  by  an  elderly, 
timid-looking  woman,  who  held  a  tallow  candle  above 
her  head. 

"  Who's  there?"  she  said,  "at  this  time  of  night. ' 

"  We're  Christmas  mummers,"  said  Robin,  stoutly ;  "  we 
didn't  know  the  way  to  the  back  door,  but " 

"And  don't  you  know  better  than  to  come  here?"  said 
the  woman.     "  Be  off  with  you,  as  fast  as  you  can." 

"You're  only  the  servant,"  said   Robin.     "Go  and  ask 


BOLDLY  VENTURED   IS   HALF  WON.  2/ 

your  master  and  mistress  if  they  wouldn't  like  to  see  us 
act     We  do  it  very  well." 

"You  impudent  boy,  be  off  with  you  !"  repeated  the 
woman.  "Master'd  no  more  let  you  nor  any  other  such 
rubbish  set  foot  in  this  house " 

"Woman!"  shouted  a  voice  close  behind  her,  which 
made  her  start  as  if  she  had  been  shot,  "  who  authorizes 
you  to  say  what  your  master  will  or  will  not  do,  before 
you've  asked  him  ?  The  boy  is  right.  You  are  the 
servant,  and  it  is  not  your  business  to  choose  for  me  whom 
I  shall  or  shall  not  see." 

"  I  meant  no  harm,  sir,  I'm  sure,"  said  the  housekeeper ; 
"  but  I  thought  you'd  never " 

"  My  good  woman,"  said  her  master,  "  if  I  had 
wanted  somebody  to  think  for  me,  you're  the  last  person 
I  should  have  employed.  I  hire  you  to  obey  orders,  not 
to  think." 

"  I'm  sure,  sir,"  said  the  housekeeper,  whose  only  form 
of  argument  was  reiteration,  "  I  never  thought  you  would 
have  seen  them " 

"  Then  you  were  wrong,"  shouted  her  master.  "  I  will 
see  them.     Bring  them  in." 

He  was  a  tall,  gaunt  old  man,  and  Robin  stared  at  him 
for  some  minutes,  wondering  where  he  could  have  seen 
somebody  veiy  like  him.  At  last  he  remembered.  It  was 
the  old  gentleman  of  the  blue  cloak. 

The  children  threw  off  their  wraps,  the  housekeeper 
helping  them,  and  chattering  ceaselessly,  from  sheer 
nervousness. 

"Well,  to  be  sure,"  said  she,  "their  dresses  are  pretty, 
too.  And  they  seem  quite  a  better  sort  of  children,  they 
talk  quite  genteel.  I  might  ha'  knowed  they  weren't  like 
common  mummers,  but  I  was  so  flusterated  hearing  the 
bell  go  so  late,  and " 

"Are  they  ready?"  said  the  old  man,  who  had  stood 


28  CHILDREN    AND    FOOLS 

like  a  ghost  in  the  dim  light  of  the  flaring  tallow  candle, 
grimly  watching  the  proceedings. 

"  Yes,  sir.     Shall  I  take  them  to  the  kitchen,  sir?" 

'* for  you  and   the  other  idle  hussies  to  gape  and 

grin  at?  No.  Bring  them  to  the  library,"  he  snapped,  and 
then  stalked  off,  leading  the  way. 

The  housekeeper  accordingly  led  them  to  the  library, 
and  then  withdrew,  nearly  falling  on  her  face  as  she  left  the 
room  by  stumbling  over  Darkie,  who  slipped  in  last  like  a 
black  shadow. 

The  old  man  was  seated  in  a  carved  oak  chair  by  the 
fire. 

"  I  never  said  the  dogs  were  to  come  in,"  he  said. 

"But  we  can't  do  without  them,  please,'.'  said  Robin, 
boldly.  "You  see  there  are  eight  people  in  'The  Peace 
Egg,'  and  there  are  only  five  of  us  ;  and  so  Darkie  has  to 
be  the  Black  Prince,  and  Pax  has  to  be  the  Fool,  and  so  we 
have  to  have  them." 

"Five  and  two  make  seven,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a 
grim  smile;  "what  do  you  do  for  the  eighth?" 

"Oh,  that's  the  little  one  at  the  end,"  said  Robin,  con- 
fidentially. "  Mamma  said  we  weren't  to  mention  him,  but 
I  think  that's  because  w^e're  children. — You're  grown  up, 
you  know,  so  Fll  show  n^ou  the  book,  and  you  can  see  for 
yourself,"  he  went  on,  drawing  "The  Peace  Egg"  from  his 
pocket :  "  there,  that's  the  picture  of  him,  on  the  last  page  ; 
black,  with  horns  and  a  tail." 

The  old  man's  stern  face  relaxed  into  a  broad  smile  as 
he  examined  the  grotesque  woodcut ;  but  when  he  turned 
to  the  first  page  the  smile  vanished  in  a  deep  frown,  and 
his  eyes  shone  like  hot  coals  with  anger.  He  had  seen 
Robin's  name. 

"Who  sent  you  here?"  he  asked,  in  a  hoarse  voice. 
"  Speak,  and  speak  the  truth !  Did  your  mother  send  you 
here?" 


TELL  TRUTH.  29 

Robin  thought  the  old  man  was  angry  with  them  for 
playing  truant.  He  said,  slowly,  "  N — no.  She  didn't 
exactly  send  us  ;  but  I  don't  think  she'll  mind  our  having 
come  if  we  get  back  in  time  for  supper.  Mamma  never 
forbid  our  going  mumming,  you  know." 

"  I  don't  suppose  she  ever  thought  of  it,"  Nicholas  said, 
candidly,  wagging  his  curly  head  from  side  to  side. 

"  She  knows  we're  mummers,"  said  Robin,  "  for  she 
helped  us.  When  we  were  abroad,  you  know,  she  used  to 
tell  us  about  the  mummers  acting  at  Christmas,  when  she 
was  a  little  girl  ;  and  so  we  thought  we'd  be  mummers,  and 
so  we  acted  to  Papa  and  Mamma,  and  so  we  thought  we'd 
act  to  the  maids,  but  they  were  cleaning  the  passages,  and 
so  we  thought  we'd  really  go  mumming  ;  and  we've  got 
several  other  houses  to  go  to  before  supper-time ;  we'd 
better  begin,  I  think,"  said  Robin  ;  and  without  more  ado 
he  began  to  march  round  and  round,  raising  his  sword  and 
shouting, — 

"  I  am  St.  George,  who  from  Old  England  sprung, 
My  famous  name  throughout  the  world  hath  rung." 

And    the    performance    went    off   quite    as    creditably    as 
before. 

As  the  children  acted  the  old  man's  anger  wore  off. 
He  watched  them  with  an  interest  he  could  not  repress. 
When  Nicholas  took  some  hard  thwacks  from  St.  George 
without  flinching,  the  old  man  clapped  his  hands ;  and, 
after  the  encounter  between  St.  George  and  the  Black 
Prince,  he  said  he  would  not  have  had  the  dogs  excluded 
on  any  consideration.  It  was  just  at  the  end,  when  they 
were  all  marching  round  and  round,  holding  on  by  each 
other's  swords  "over  the  shoulder,"  and  singing  "  A  mum- 
ming we  will  go,  &c,"  that  Nicholas  suddenly  brought  the 
circle  to  a  standstill  by  stopping  dead  short,  and  staring  up 
at  the  wall  before  him. 


30  GOD    HATH   HIS   SMALL   INTERPRETERS, 

"  What  are  you  stopping  for?"  said  St.  George,  turning 
indignantly  round. 

"Look  there!"  cried  Nicholas,  pointing  to  a  little 
painting  which  hung  above  the  old  man's  head. 

Robin  looked,  and  said,  abruptly,  "  It's  Dora." 

"Which  is  Dora?"  asked  the  old  man,  in  a  strange, 
sharp  lone. 

"  Here  she  is,"  said  Robin  and  Nicholas  in  one  breath, 
as  they  dragged  her  forward. 

"  She's  the  Doctor,"  said  Robin  ;  "  and  you  can't  see 
her  face  for  her  things.  Dor,  take  off  your  cap  and  pull 
back  that  hood.     There  !     Oh,  it  is  like  her  !" 

It  was  a  portrait  of  her  mother  as  a  child  ;  but  of  this 
the  nursery  mummers  knew  nothing.  The  old  man  looked 
as  the  peaked  cap  and  hood  fell  away  from  Dora's  face  and 
fair  curls,  and  then  he  uttered  a  sharjD  cry,  and  buried  his 
head  upon  his  hands.  The  boys  stood  stupified,  but  Dora 
ran  up  to  him,  and  putting  her  little  hands  on  his  arms, 
said,  in  childish  pitying  tones,  "  Oh,  I  am  so  sorry  !  Have 
you  got  a  headache?  May  Robin  put  the  shovel  in  the 
fire  for  you  ?  Mamma  has  hot  shovels  for  her  headaches." 
And,  though  the  old  man  did  not  speak  or  move,  she  went 
on  coaxing  him,  and  stroking  his  head,  on  which  the  hair 
was  white.  At  this  moment  Pax  took  one  of  his  unex- 
pected runs,  and  jumped  on  lo  the  old  man's  knee,  in  his 
own  particular  fashion,  and  then  yawned  at  the  company. 
The  old  man  was  startled,  and  lifted  his  face  suddenly. 
It  was  wet  with  tears. 

"Why,  you're  crying!"  exclaimed  the  children  with 
one  breath. 

"  It's  very  odd,"  said  Robin,  fretfully.  "  I  can't  think 
what's  the  matter  to-night.  Mamma  was  crying  too  when 
we  were  acting,  and  Papa  said  we  weren't  to  tease  her  with 
questions,  and  he  kissed  her  hand,  and  I  kissed  her  hand 
too.     And  Papa  said  we  must  all  be  very  good  and  kind  to 


THE   CHILD   MUST   TEACH   THE    MAN.  31 

poor  dear  Mamma,  and  so  I  mean  to  be,  she's  so  good. 
And  I  think  we'd  better  go  home,  or  perhaps  she'll  be 
frightened,"  Robin  added. 

"She's  so  good,  is  she?"  asked  the  old  man.  He  hac? 
put  Pax  off  his  knee,  and  taken  Dora  on  to  it. 

"Oh,  isn't  she!"  said  Nicholas,  swaying  his  curly  head 
from  side  to  side  as  usual. 

"  She's  always  good,"  said  Robin,  emphatically  ;  "  and 
so's  Papa.  But  I'm  always  doing  something  I  oughtn't  to," 
he  added,  slowly.  "  But  then,  you  know,  I  don't  pretend 
to  obey  Sarah.  I  don't  care  a  fig  for  Sarah  ;  and  I  won't 
obey  any  woman  but  Mamma." 

"Who's  Sarah?"  asked  the  grandfather. 

"  She's  our  nurse,"  said  Robin,  "  and  she  tells — I  mustn't 
say  what  she  tells — but  it's  not  the  truth.  She  told  one 
about  j^«  the  other  day,"  he  added. 

"  About  me?"  said  the  old  man. 

"  She  said  you  were  our  grandpapa.  So  then  I  knew 
she  was  telling  jou  know  zuhat." 

"How  did  you  know  it  wasn't  true?"  the  old  man 
asked. 

"  Why,  of  course,"  said  Robin,  "  if  you  were  our 
Mamma's  father,  you'd  know  her,  and  be  very  fond  of 
her,  and  come  and  see  her.  And  then  you'd  be  our 
grandfather,  too,  and  you'd  have  us  to  see  you,  and 
perhaps  give  us  Christmas-boxes.  I  wish  you  were," 
Robin  added  with  a  sigh.      "  It  would  be  very  nice." 

"  Would  you  like  it?"  asked  the  old  man  of  Dora. 

And  Dora,  who  was  half  asleep  and  very  comfortable, 
put  her  little  arms  about  his  neck  as  she  was  wont  to  put 
them  round  the  Captain's,  and  said,  "  Very  much." 

He  put  her  down  at  last,  very  tenderly,  almost  un- 
willingly, and  left  the  children  alone.  By-and-by  he 
returned,  dressed  in  the  blue  cloak,  and  took  Dora  up 
again. 


"It  was  her  father,  with  her  child  in  his  arms!"' — Page  33. 


ALL  THE  MAN  WAS  BROKEN  WITH  REMORSE. 


33 


"  I  will  see  you  home,"  he  said. 

The  children  had  not  been  missed.  The  clock  had 
only  just  struck  nine  when  there  came  a  knock  on  the 
door  of  the  dining-room,  where  the  Captain  and  his  wife 
still  sat  by  the  Yule  log.  She  said  "  Come  in,"  wearily, 
thinking  it  was  the  frumenty  and  the  Christmas  cakes. 

But  it  was  her  father,  with  her  child  in  his  arms ! 


Peace  and  Goodwill. 


UCY     Jane 

Bull  and  her 
sisters  were 
quite  old 
enough  to 
understand  a 
good  deal  of 
grown  -  up 
conversation 
when  they 
overheard  it. 
Thus,  when  a 
friend  of  Mrs. 
Bull's  ob- 
served during 
an  afternoon 
call  that  she 
believed  that 
"officers' 
wives  were 
very  dressy," 
the      young 

ladies  were  at  once  resolved  to  keep  a  sharp  look-out  for 
the  Captain's  wife's  bonnet  in  church  on  Christmas  Day. 


j4       ALL   HIS   LOVE   CAME   BACK   A   HUNDRED-FOLD. 

The  Bulls  had  just  taken  their  seats  when  the  Captain's 
wife  came  in.  They  really  would  have  hid  their  faces,  and 
looked  at  the  bonnet  afterwards,  but  for  the  startling  sight 
that  met  the  gaze  of  the  congregation.  The  old  grand- 
father walked  into  church  abreast  of  the  Captain. 

"  They've  met  in  the  porch,"  whispered  Mr.  Bull  undci 
the  shelter  of  his  hat. 

"  They  can't  quarrel  publicly  in  a  place  of  worship," 
said  Mrs.  Bull,  turning  pale. 

"  She's  gone  into  his  seat,"  cried  Lucy  Jane  in  a  shrill 
whisper. 

"  And  the  children  after  her,"  added  the  other  sister, 
incautiously  aloud. 

There  was  now  no  doubt  about  the  matter.  The  old 
man  in  his  blue  cloak  stood  for  a  few  moments  politely 
disputing  the  question  of  precedence  with  his  handsome 
son-in-law.  Then  the  Captain  bowed  and  passed  in,  and 
the  old  man  followed  him. 

By  the  time  that  the  service  was  ended  everybody 
knew  of  the  happy  peacemaking,  an.d  was  glad.  One  old 
friend  after  another  came  up  with  blessings  and  good 
wishes.  This  was  a  proper  Christmas,  indeed,  they  said. 
There  was  a  general  rejoicing. 

But  only  the  grandfather  and  his  children  knew  that 
\t  ^v■as  hatched  from  "  The  Peace  Egg." 


A 

CHRISTMAS    MUMMING    PLAY. 


INTRODUCTION. 

Since  a  little  story  of  mine  called  "  The  Peace  Egg " 
appeared  in  Aunt  Judy's  Magazine,  I  have  again  and 
again  been  asked  where  the  Mumming  Play  could  be  found 
which  gave  its  name  to  my  tale,  and  if  real  children  could 
act  it,  as  did  the  fancy  children  of  the  story. 

As  it  stands,  this  old  Christmas  Mumming  Play  (which 
seems  to  have  borrowed  the  name  of  an  Easter  Entertain- 
ment or  Pasque  Egg)  is  not  fit  for  domestic  performance; 
and  though  probably  there  are  few  nurseries  in  those  parts 
of  England  where  "mumming"  and  the  sword-dance  still 
linger,  in  which  the  children  do  not  play  some  version  of 
St.  George's  exploits,  a  little  of  the  dialogue  goes  a  long 
way,  and  the  mummery  (which  must  almost  be  seen  to  be 
imitated)  is  the  chief  matter. 

In  fact,  the  mummery  is  the  chief  matter — which  is 
what  makes  the  play  so  attractive  to  children,  and  it  may 
be  added,  so  suitable  for  their  performance.  In  its  rude- 
ness, its  simplicity,  its  fancy  dressing,  the  rapid  action  of 
the  plot,  and  last,  but  not  least,  its  bhidgiiicss — that  quality 
which  made  the  history  of  Goliath  so  dear  to  the  youngest 
of  Helen's  Babies! — it  is  adapted  for  nursery  amusement, 
as  the  Drama  of  Punch  and  Judy  is,  and  for  similar 
reasons. 

For  some  little  time  past  I  have  purposed  to  try  and 
blend  the  various  versions  of  "  Peace  Egg "  into  one 
Mummery  for  the  nursery,  with  as  little  change  of  the 
old  rhymes  as  might  be.  I  have  been  again  urged  to  d^ 
so  this  Christmas,  and  though  I  have  not  been  able  to  give 
as  much  time  or  research  to  it  as   I  should  have  liked,  I 


36  MIRACLE   PLAYS. 

have  thought  it  better  to  do  it  without  further  delay,  even 
if  somewhat  imperfectly. 

To  shuffle  the  characters  and  vary  the  text  is  nothing 
new  in  the  history  of  these  "  Mock  Plays,"  as  they  were 
sometimes  called. 

They  are  probably  of  veiy  ancient  origin — "  Pagan,  I 
regret  to  say,"  as  Mr.  Pecksniff  obser\^cd  in  reference  to 
the  sirens — and  go  back  to  "the  heathen  custom  of  going 
about  on  the  Kalends  of  January  in  disguises,  as  wild 
beasts  and  cattle,  the  sexes  changing  apparel."  (There  is 
a  relic  of  this  last  unseemly  custom  still  in  "The  Old  Tup" 
and  "The  Old  Horse  ;"  when  these  are  performed  by  both 
girls  and  boys,  the  latter  wear  skirts  and  bonnets,  the 
former  hats  and  great  coats  ;  this  is  also  the  case  in  Scot- 
land where  the  boys  and  girls  go  round  at  Hogmanay.) 

In  the  1 2th  century  the  clergy  introduced  miracle  plays 
and  scripture  histories  to  rival  the  performances  of  the 
strolling  players,  which  had  become  very  gross.  They 
became  as  popular  as  beneficial,  and  London  was  famous 
for  them.  Different  places,  and  even  trade-guilds  and 
schools,  had  their  differing  "  mysteries." 

Secular  plays  continued,  and  the  two  seem  occasionally 
to  have  got  mixed.  Into  one  of  the  oldest  of  old  plays, 
"  St.  George  and  the  Dragon,"  the  Crusaders  and  Pilgrims 
introduced  the  Eastern  characters  who  still  remain  there. 
This  is  the  foundation  of  The  Peace  Egg.  About  the 
middle  of  the  15th  century,  plays,  which,  not  quite  reli- 
gious, still  witnessed  to  the  eiTect  of  the  religious  plays  in 
•aising  the  standard  of  public  taste,  appeared  under  the 
^ame  of  "  Morals,"  or  "  Moralities." 

Christmas  plays,  masques,  pageants,  and  the  like  were 
largely  patronized  by  the  Tudor  sovereigns,  and  the  fashion 
set  by  the  Court  was  followed  in  the  country.  Queen 
Elizabeth  was  not  only  devoted  to  the  drama,  and  herself 
performed,   but   she  was  very   critical   and   exacting  ;  and 


MASK   OF   CHRISTMAS.  37 

the  high  demand  which  she  did  so  much  to  stimulate,  was 
followed  by  such  supply  as  was  given  by  the  surpassing 
dramatic  genius  of  the  Elizabethan  age  of  literature. 
Later,  Ben  Jonson  and  Inigo  Jones  combined  to  pro- 
duce the  Court  masks,  one  of  which, — the  well-known 
"  Mask  of  Christmas,"  had  for  chief  characters,  Christmas 
and  his  children,  Misrule,  Carol,  Mince  Pie,  Gambol,  Post 
and  Pair,  New  Years'  Gift,  Mumming,  Wassel,  Offering, 
and  Baby's  Cake.  In  the  17th  century  the  Christmas 
Mummeries  of  the  Inns  of  Court  were  conducted  with 
great  magnificence  and  at  large  cost. 

All  such  entertainments  were  severely  suppressed  during 
the  Commonwealth,  at  which  time  the  words  "  Welcome,  or 
not  welcome,  I  am  come,"  were  introduced  into  Father 
Christmas's  part. 

At  one  time  the  Jester  of  the  piece  (he  is  sometimes 
called  the  Jester,  and  sometimes  the  Fool,  or  the  Old  Fool) 
used  to  wear  a  calf's  hide.  Robin  Goodfellow  says,  "  111 
go  put  on  my  devilish  robes — I  mean  my  Christmas  calf's 
skin  suit — and  then  walk  to  the  woods."  "  I'll  put  me  on 
my  great  carnation  nose,  and  wrap  me  in  a  rousing  calf- 
skin suit,  and  come  like  some  hob-goblin."  And  a 
character  of  the  i8th  century  "clears  the  way"  with — 

"  My  name  it  is  Captain  Calftail,  Calftail— 
And  on  my  back  it  is  plain  to  be  seen, 
Although  I  am  simple  and  wear  a  fool's  cap, 
I  am  dearly  beloved  of  a  queen — " 

which   looks  as   if  Titania  had   found   her  way  into   that 
mummery  ! 

"  The  Hobby  Horse's  "  costume  was  a  horse's  hide,  real 
or  imitated.  I  have  no  copy  of  a  Christmas  Play  in  which 
the  Hobby  Horse  appears.  In  the  north  of  England, 
"  The  Old  Horse  "  and  "  The  Old  Tup  "  are  the  respective 
heroes  of  their   own  peculiar  mummeries,  generally  per- 


o 


S  THE   OLD   TUP. 


formed  by  a  younger,  or  perhaps  a  rougher,  set  of  lads 
than  those  who  play  the  more  elegant  mysteries  of  St 
George.  The  boy  who  acts  "  Old  Tup  "  has  a  ram's  head 
impaled  upon  a  short  pole,  which  he  grasps  and  uses  as  a 
sort  of  wooden  leg  in  front  of  him.  He  needs  some  extra 
support,  his  back  being  bent  as  if  for  leap-frog,  and  covered 
with  an  old  rug  (in  days  when  "  meat "  was  cheaper  it  was 
probably  a  hide).  The  hollow  sound  of  his  peg-leg  upon 
the  "  flags  "  of  the  stone  passages  and  kitchen  floor,  and  the 
yearly  test  of  courage  supplied  by  the  rude  familiarities  of 
his  gruesome  head  as  he  charged  and  dispersed  maids  and 
children,  amid  shrieks  and  laughter,  are  probably  familiar 
memories  of  all  Yorkshire,  Lancashire,  and  Derbyshire 
childhoods.  I  do  not  know  if  the  Old  Horse  and  the 
Old  Tup  belong  to  other  parts  of  the  British  Isles.  It  is 
a  rude  and  somewhat  vulgar  performance,  especially  if 
undertaken  by  older  revellers,  when  the  men  wear  skirts 
and  bonnets,  and  the  women  don  great  coats  and  hats — 
the  Fool,  the  Doctor,  and  a  darker  character  with  a  besom, 
are  often  of  the  party,  but  the  Knights  of  Christendom 
and  the  Eastern  Potentates  take  no  share  in  these  pro- 
ceedings, which  are  oftenest  and  most  inoffensively  per- 
formed by  little  boys  not  yet  promoted  to  be  "  mummers." 
It  is,  however,  essential  that  one  of  them  should  have  a 
good  voice,  true  and  tuneful  enough  to  sing  a  long  ballad, 
and  lead  the  chorus. 

In  the  scale  of  contributions  to  the  numerous  itinerant 
Christmas  Boxes  of  Christmas  week — such  as  the  Ringers, 
the  Waits,  the  Brass  Band,  the  Hand-bells,  the  Mummers 
(Peace  Egg),  the  superior  Mummers,  who  do  more  intricate 
sword-play  (and  in  the  North  Riding  are  called  Morris 
Dancers),  etc.,  etc.,  the  Old  Tup  stands  low  down  on  the 
list.  I  never  heard  the  Rhymes  of  the  Old  Horse  ;  they 
cannot  be  the  same.  These  diversions  arc  very  strictly 
localized  and  handed  on  by  word  of  mouth. 


GRAND   SWORD   DANCE.  39 

Of  the  best  version  of  Peace  Egg  which  I  have  seen 
performed,  I  have  as  yet  quite  vainly  endeavoured  to  get 
any  part  transcribed.  It  is  oral  tradition.  It  is  practised 
for  some  weeks  beforehand,  and  the  costumes,  including 
wonderful  head  dresses  about  the  size  of  the  plumed  bonnet 
of  a  Highlander  in  full-dress,  are  carefully  preserved  from 
year  to  year.  These  pasteboard  erections  are  covered  with 
flowers,  feathers,  bugles  and  coloured  streamers.  The 
dresses  are  of  coloured  calico,  with  ribbons  everywhere; 
"  points "  to  the  breeches  and  hose,  shoulder-knots  and 
sashes. 

But,  as  a  rough  rule,  it  is  one  of  the  conveniences  of 
mumming  play,  that  the  finery  may  be  according  to  the 
taste  and  the  resources  of  the  company. 

The  swords  are  of  steel,  and  those  I  have  seen  are 
short.  In  some  places  I  believe  rapiers  are  used.  I  am 
very  sorry  to  be  unable  to  give  proper  directions  for  the 
sword-play,  which  is  so  pretty.  I  have  only  one  version 
in  which  such  directions  are  given.  I  have  copied  the 
"  Grand  Sword  Dance  "  in  its  proper  place  for  the  benefit 
of  those  who  can  interpret  it.  It  is  not  easy  to  explain  in 
writing,  even  so  much  of  it  as  I  know.  Each  combat 
consists  of  the  same  number  of  cuts,  to  the  best  of  my 
remembrance,  and  the  "  shoulder  cuts "  (which  look  vcrv 
like  two  persons  sharpening  two  knives  as  close  as  possible 
to  each  other's  nose!)  are  in  double  time,  twice  as  quirV 
as  the  others.     The  stage  directions  are  as  follows : — 


A.  and  R.  fii^ht 

Cut  I 

Crossinjj  e.ich  other. 

(They  change  jilaces,  striking  as  they  pass.'^ 

Cut  2 

.',          back. 

Cut  3 

,,          .,          other. 

Cut  4 

... 

Lack. 
4  shoulder  cuts. 

A 

loses  his 

sword  and  falls. 

40  SILVERTON    MUMMING   PLAY. 

But  I  do  not  think  the  version  from  which  this  is  an 
extract  is  at  all  an  elaborate  one.  There  ought  to  be  a 
"  Triumph,"  with  an  archway  of  swords,  in  the  style  of 
Sir  Roger  de  Coverley.  After  the  passing  and  repassing 
strokes,  there  is  usually  much  more  hand-to-hand  fight- 
ing, then  4  shoulder  cuts,  and  some  are  aimed  high  and 
some  down  among  their  ankles,  in  a  way  which  would 
probably  be  quite  clear  to  anyone  trained  in  broad-sword 
exercise. 

The  following  Christmas  Mumming  Play  is  compiled 
from  five  versions.  The  "  Peace  Egg,"  the  "  Wassail  Cup," 
"  Alexander  the  Great,"  "  A  Mock  Play,"  and  the  "  Silver- 
ton  Mummer's  Play  "  (Devon),  which  has  been  lent  to  me 
in  manuscript. 

The  Mumming  Chorus,  "  And  a  mumming  we  will  go," 
etc.,  is  not  in  any  one  of  these  versions,  but  I  never  saw 
mumming  without  it. 

The  Silverton  version  is  an  extreme  example  of  the  con- 
tinuous development  of  these  unwritten  dramas.  Genera- 
tion after  generation,  the  most  incongruous  characters  have 
been  added.  In  some  cases  this  is  a  very  striking  testimony 
to  the  strength  of  rural  sympathy  with  the  great  deeds  and 
heroes  of  the  time,  as  well  as  to  native  talent  for  dramatic 
composition. 

Wellington  and  Wolfe  almost  eclipsed  St.  George  in 
some  parts  of  England,  and  the  sea  Heroes  are  naturally 
popular  in  Devonshire.  The  death  of  Nelson  in  the  Silver- 
ton  play  has  fine  dramatic  touches.  Though  he  "  has  but 
one  arm  and  a  good  one  too,"  he  essays  to  fight — whether 
Tippo  Saib  or  St  George  is  not  made  clear.  He  falls,  and 
St.  George  calls  for  the  Doctor  in  the  usual  words.  The 
Doctor  ends  his  peculiar  harangue  with :  "  Britons !  our 
Nelson  is  dead."  To  which  a  voice,  which  seems  to  play 
the  part  of  Greek  chorus,  responds — "  But  he  is  not  with 


PILGRIMS   AND   CRUSADERS.  4I 

the  dead,  but  in  the  arms  of  the  Living  God !"  Then, 
enter  ColHngwood — 

"  Col/mgwood —Here  comes  I,  bold  CoUingwood, 

Who  fought  the  French  and  boldly  stood  ; 
And  now  the  life  of  that  bold  Briton's  gone, 
I'll  put  the  crown  of  victory  on  " — 

with  which — "he  takes  the  crown  off  Nelson's  head  and 
puts  it  on  his  own." 

I  have,  however,  confined  myself  in  the  "  Peace  Egg " 
to  those  characters  which  have  the  warrant  of  considerable 
antiquity,  and  their  number  is  not  small.  They  can  easily 
be  reduced  by  cutting  out  one  or  two ;  or  some  of  the 
minor  characters  could  play  more  than  one  part,  by  making 
real  exits  and  changing  i\\e  dress,  instead  of  the  conven- 
tional exit  into  the  background  of  the  group. 

Some  of  these  minor  characters  are  not  the  least 
charming.  The  fair  Sabra  (who  is  often  a  mute)  should 
uc  the  youngest  and  prettiest  little  maid  that  can  toddla 
through  her  part,  and  no  old  family  brocade  can  be  too 
gorgeous  for  her.  The  Pretty  Page  is  another  part  for 
a  "  very  little  one,"  and  his  velvets  and  laces  should  become 
him.  They  contrast  delightfully  with  Dame  Dolly  and 
Little  Man  Jack,  and  might,  if  needful,  be  played  by  the 
same  performers. 

I  have  cut  out  everything  that  could  possibly  offend, 
except  the  line — "  Take  him  and  give  him  to  the  flies." 
It  betrays  an  experience  of  Asiatic  battlefields  so  terribly 
real,  that  I  was  unwilling  to  abolish  this  unconscious  witness 
to  the  influence  of  Pilgrims  and  Crusaders  on  the  Peace 
Egg.      It  is  easily  omitted. 

I  have  dismissed  the  Lord  of  Flies,  Beelzebub,  and  (with 
.some  reluctance)  "  Little  Devil  Doubt "  and  his  besom.  I 
had  a  mind  to  have  retained  him  as  "  The  Demon  of 
Doubt,"  ior  he  plays  in  far  higher  dramas.     His  besom  also 


42  MILK   PAIL  AND   WASSAIL   CUP. 

seems  to  come  from  the  East,  where  a  figure  "  sweeping 
everything  out "  with  a  broom  is  the  first  vision  produced  in 
the  cr>'stal  or  liquid  in  the  palm  of  a  medium  by  the 
magicians  of  Egypt. 

Those  who  wish  to  do  so  can  admit  him  at  the  very 
end,  after  the  sword  dance,  very  black,  and  with  a  besom, 
a  money-box  and  the  following  doggrel  : — 

In  come  I,  the  Demon  of  Doubt, 

If  you  don't  give  me  money  I'll  sweep  you  all  out ; 

Money  I  want  and  money  I  crave. 

Money  I  want  and  money  I'll  have. 

He  is  not  a  taking  character  —  unless  to  the  antiquary  !  I 
have  substituted  the  last  line  for  the  less  decorous  original, 
"  If  you  don't  give  me  money,  I'll  sweep  you  all  to  the 
grave." 

It  is  perhaps  only  the  antiquary  who  will  detect  the 
connection  between  the  Milk  Pail  and  the  Wassail  Cup  in 
in  the  Fool's  Song.  But  it  seems  at  one  time  to  have 
been  made  of  milk.  In  a  play  of  the  i6th  century  it  is 
described  as — 

"  Wassayle,  wassayle,  out  of  the  mylk  payle 
Wassayle,  wassayle,  as  white  as  my  nayle," 

and  Selden  calls  it  "a  slabby  stuff,"  which  sounds  as  if  it 
had  got  mixed  up  with  frumenty. 

Since  the  above  went  to  press,  I  have  received  some 
extracts  from  the  unwritten  version  of  Peace  Egg  in  the 
West  Riding  of  Yorkshire  to  which  I  have  alluded.  They 
recall  to  me  that  the  piece  properly  opens  with  a  "mum- 
ming round,"  different  to  the  one  I  have  given,  that  one 
belonging  to  the  end.  The  first  Mumming  Song  rehearses 
each  character  and  his  exploits.  The  hero  of  the  verse 
which  describes  him  singing  (auto-biographically!)  his  own 
doughty  deeds  in  the  third  person.  Thus  St  George  begins, 
I  give  it  in  the  vernacular. 


ST.   GEORGE   OF    ENGLAND.  43 

"  The  first  to  coom  in  is  the  Champion  bould, 
The  Champion  bould  is  he, 
He  never  fought  battle  i'  all  his  loife-toim, 
But  he  made  his  bould  enemy  flee,  flee,  flee. 
He  made  his  bould  enemy  flee." 

The  beauty  of  this  song  is  the  precision  with  which  each 
character  enters  and  joins  the  slowly  increasing  circle.  But 
that  is  its  only  merit.  It  is  wretched  doggrel,  and  would 
make  the  play  far  too  tedious.  I  was,  however,  interested 
by  this  verse  : 

The  next  to  come  in  is  the  Cat  and  Calftail, 

The  Cat  and  Calftail  is  he  ; 

He  11  beg  and  he'll  borrow,  and  he'll  steal  all  he  can. 

But  he'll  never  pay  back  one  penny,  penny. 

He'll  never  pay  back  one  penny. 

Whether  "Cat  and  Calftail"  is  a  corruption  of  Captain 
Calftail  or  (more  likely)  Captain  Calftail  was  evolved  from 
a  Fool  in  Calf's  hide  and  Cat's  skins,  it  is  hard  to  say. 
They  are  evidently  one  and  the  same  shabby  personage  ! 

The  song  which  I  have  placed  at  the  head  of  the  Peace 
Egg  Play  has  other  verses  which  also  recite  "the  argument' 
of  the  piece,  but  not  one  is  worth  recording.  A  third  song 
does  not,  I  feel  sure,  belong  to  the  classic  versions,  but  to 
another  "rude  and  vulgar"  one,  which  I  have  not  seen  for 
some  years,  and  which  was  played  in  a  dialect  dark,  even  to 
those  who  flattered  themselves  that  they  were  to  tlve 
manner  born.  In  it  St.  George  and  the  Old  Fool  wrangle, 
the  O.  F.  accusing  the  Patron  Saint  of  England  of  stealing 
clothes  hung  out  to  dry  on  the  hedges.  St  George,  who 
has  previously  boasted, — 

I've  travelled  this  world  all  round, 
And  hopes  to  do  it  again, 
I  was  once  put  out  of  my  way 
By  a  hundred  and  forty  men 


44  MAN   JACK. 

- — indignantly  denies  the  theft,  and  adds  that,  on  the  con- 
trary, he  has  ahvays  sent  home  money  to  his  old  mother. 
To  which  the  Old  Fool  contemptuously  responds, 

All  the  relations  thou  had  were  few, 
Thou  had  an  Old  Granny  I  knew, 
She  went  a  red-cabbage  selling, 
Asa  many  old  people  do. 

In  either  this,  or  another,  rough  version,  the  hero  (presum 
ably  St.  George)  takes  counsel  with  Man  Jack  on  his  love 
affairs.     Man  Jack  is  played  by  a  small  boy  in  a  ver}-  tall 
beaver  hat,  and  with  his  face  blacked. 

■  iMy  Man  Jack,  what  can  the  matter  be? 
""hat  I  should  luv  this  lady,  and  she  will  not  luv  me." 

Lt.   (jEOKGb.  anc  Man  Jack. 

rvo,  nor  nayther  will  she  walk  \     .  ,     , 

(.  with  thee. 


•  ,    .        ,,     f  with  me. 
•.-.-L»,  nor  nayther  will  she  talk  s     .  ,     , 

(.  with  thee. 


But  the  true  Peace  Egg,  if  blndgy,  is  essentially  a  heroic 
play,  and  I  think  the  readers  of  AUNT  JUDV's  Magazine 
will  be  content  that  I  have  omitted  accretions  which  are 
not  the  less  vulgar  because  they  are  old. 

In  refining  and  welding  the  piece  together,  I  have 
introduced  thirty  lines  of  my  own,  in  various  places 
The  rest  is  genuine. 

J.  H.  E. 


THE    PEACE    EGG 

A 

CHRISTMAS    MUMMING   PLAY. 


DRESSING    THE    DRAGON. 


THE     PEACE    EGG. 

A     CHRISTMAS     MUMMING     PLAY. 

Written  expressly  for  all  Mununers,  to  commemorate  the  Holy  Wars,  a>ul  the 
happy  Festival  of  Christmas. 


Dramatis  Pkrson^. 
St.  George  of  England  {he  must -wear  a  rose.') 
St.  Andrew  of  Scotland  [he  must  wear  a  thistle.') 
St.   Patrick  of  Ireland  {he  must  ivear  the  shamrock.) 
St.   David  of  Wales  {he  must  wear  a  leek.) 
Saladin,    a  Pagan   Giant  of   Palestine  {a  very  tall  grown  up  actor 

wotild  be  effective. ) 
The  King  of  Egypt  {iti  a  turban  and  crown.) 
The  Prince  of  Paradine,   his  son   {face  blacked,  and  it  is  "tradition" 

to  play  this  part  in  weeds,  as  if  he  were  Hamlet. ) 
The  Turkish  Knight  {Eastern  cos'ume.) 
Hector. 

The  Valiant  Slasher  {old yeomanry  coat,  etc.,  is  effective.) 
The    Dragon    {a  paste-board  head,   with  horrid  Jaws,   if  possible.      A  tail, 

and  paws  with  claws. ) 
The  Fool  {Motley:  with  a  bauble  long  enough  to  pttt  over  his  shoulder  and 

be  held  by  the  one  behind  in  the  mumming  circle. ) 
Old  Faiher  Chrisimas   {white  beard,  etc.,  and  a  staff.) 
The  DocroR  {wig,  spectacles,  hat  and  cane.) 
The  Little  Page  {pretty  little  boy  in  velvet,  etc.) 

Little  Man  Jack  {big  mask  head,  if  cotivtnient,  short  cloak  and  club. ) 
Princess  Sabra  {pretty  little  girl,  gorgeously  dressed,  a  crown.) 
Dame  Dolly   {a   large  mask   head,    if  possible,    and  a   very  amazing  cap. 

Dame  Dolly  should  bob  curtseys  and  dance  about.) 


No  scenery  is  required.  The  actors,  as  a  rule,  all  come  in  together.  To 
"  enter  "  means  to  stand  forth,  and  "  exit "  that  the  actor  retires  into  the  back- 
ground. But  the  following  method  will  be  found  most  effective.  Let  Fool 
enter  alone,  and  the  rest  come  in  one  by  one  when  the  Fool  begins  to  sing. 


48  THE   PEACE  EGG. 

Tliey  must  march  in  to  the  music,  and  join  the  circle  with  regularity.  Each 
actor  as  he  "'  brags,"  and  gives  his  challenge,  does  so  marching  up  and  down, 
his  drawn  sword  over  his  shoulder.  All  the  characters  take  part  in  the 
"Mumming  Round."  The  next  to  Fair  Sabra  might  hold  up  her  train,  and 
if  Dame  Dolly  had  a  gamp  umbrella  to  put  over  her  shoulder,  it  would  not 
detract  from  her  comic  charms.  The  Trumpet  Calls  for  the  four  Patron 
Knights  should  be  appropriate  to  each.  If  a  Trumpet  is  quite  impossible 
some  one  should  play  a  national  air  as  each  champion  enters. 

[Enter  FooL.  ; 
Fool.  Good  morrow,  friends  and  neighbours  dear, 

We  are  right  glad  to  meet  you  here, 
Christmas  comes  but  once  a  year, 
But  when  it  comes  it  brings  good  cheer, 
And  when  its  gone  it's  no  longer  near. 
May  luck  attend  the  milking  pail, 
Yule  logs  and  cakes  in  plenty  be. 
May  each  blow  of  the  thrashing  flail, 
Produce  good  frumenty. 
And  let  tiie  Wassail  Cup  abound, 
When'er  the  mummer's  time  comes  round. 

Air,  " Le  Petit  TamboiH:" 
Sin^s.  Now  all  ye  jolly  mummers, 

Who  mum  in  Christmas  lime, 
Come  join  with  me  in  clioius, 
Come  join  with  me  in  rhyme. 

[He  has  laid  /lis  bauble  over  his  shoulder,  and  it  is  taken  by  Sx.  Geokgk,  7i'ho 
is  followed  by  all  the  other  actors,  each  laying  his  sword  over  his  ri^lit 
shoulder  and  his  left  hand  on  the  sword  point  in  fro7it  of  him,  and  all 
marking  time  with  their  feet  till  the  circle  is  complete,  it  hen  tlic\  match 
round  iinging  the  chonis  over  and  over  again.  ] 

Chorus.  And  a  mumming  we  will  go,  will  go. 

And  a  mumming  we  will  go. 

With  a  bright  cockade  in  all  our  hats,  we'll  go  with  a 
gallant  show. 

[Disperse,  and  stand  aside.'\ 

\_Enter  Father  Christmas.] 
Fa)  HER  Christmas.     Here  come  I,  old  Father  Christmas, 
Welcome,  or  welcome  not, 
I  hope  poor  old  Father  Christmas 
Will  never  be  forgot ! 
My  head  is  white,  my  back  is  bent. 
My  knees  are  weak,  my  strength  is  speni 


A   CHRISTMAS    MUMMING   PLAY.  49 

Eighteen  hundred  and  eighty  three 

Is  a  very  great  age  for  me. 

And  if  I'd  been  growing  all  these  years 

What  a  monster  I  should  be  ! 

Now  I  '  ave  but  a  short  time  to  stay, 

And  if  you  don't  believe  what  I  say — 

Lome  in  Dame  Dolly,  and  clear  the  way. 

[Enter  Dame  Doli.y] 

Damk  Doi.i.y.    Here  comes  I,  little  Dame  Dolly, 
Wearing  smart  caps  in  all  my  folly, 
If  any  gentleman  takes  my  whim, 
I'll  set  my  holiday  cap  at  him. 
To  laugh  at  my  cap  would  be  very  rude  ; 
1  wish  you  well,  and  I  won't  intrude. 
Gentlemen  now  at  the  door  do  stand. 
They  will  walk  in  with  drawn  swords  in  hand, 
And  if  you  don't  believe  what  I  say — 
Let  one  Fool  and  four  knights  from  the  British  Isles, 
come  in  and  clear  the  way  ! 

[Enter  Fool  and  four  Christian  knights.'\ 

Fool,  ikakin^  his  bells  at  intervals. 

Room,  room,  brave  gallants,  give  us  room  to  sport. 

For  to  this  room  we  wish  now  to  resort : 

Resort,  and  to  rejieat  to  you  our  merry  rhyme, 

For  remember,  good  sirs,  that  this  is  Christmas  lime. 

The  time  to  make  mince-pies  doth  now  appear. 

So  we  are  come  to  act  our  merriment  in  here. 

At  the  soundmg  of  the  trumpet,  and  beating  of  the  drum. 

Make  room,  brave  gentlemen,  and  let  our  actor-;  come. 

We  are  the  merry  actors  that  traverse  the  street. 

We  are  the  merry  actors  that  fight  for  our  meat. 

We  are  the  merry  actors  that  show  pleasant  play. 

Stand  forth,  St.  George,  thou  champion,  and  clear  the  way. 

[Trumpet  sounds  for  St.  GfcORGE.] 

[St.  George  stands  forth  and  walks  up  and  down  with  sword  en  shoulder. \ 

St.  George.      I  am  St.  George,  from  good  Old  England  sprung. 
My  famous  name  throughout  the  world  hath  rung. 
Many  bloody  deeds  and  wonders  have  I  shown. 
And  made  false  tyrants  tremble  on  their  throne. 
1  followed  a  fair  lady  to  a  giant's  gate, 
Confined  in  dungeon  deep  to  meet  her  fate. 


I 


50  THE   PEACE   EGG. 

Then  I  resolved  witli  true  knight  errantry 

To  burst  the  door,  and  set  the  cai)tive  free. 

Far  have  I  roamed,  oft  have  I  fought,  and  little  do  I  rest ; 

All  my  delight  is  to  defend  the  right,  and  succour  the  opprest. 

And  now  I'll  slay  the  Dragon  bold,  my  wonders  to  begin, 

A  fell  and  fiery  Dragon  he,  but  I  will  clip  his  wing. 

I'll  clip  his  wings,  he  shall  not  fly, 

I'll  rid  the  land  of  him,  or  else  I'll  die. 

[Enter  The  Dragon,  wHA  a  sword  over  his  shoulder.] 

Dragon.  Who  is  it  seeks  the  Dragon's  blood, 

And  calls  so  angry  and  so  loud  ? 
That  English  dog  who  looks  so  proud — 
If  I  could  catch  him  in  my  claw — 
With  my  long  teeth  and  horrid  jaw, 
Of  such  I'd  break  up  half  a  score. 
To  stay  my  appetite  for  more. 
Marrow  from  his  bones  I'd  squeeze, 
And  suck  his  blood  up  by  degrees. 

[St.  George  a«^  The  Dragon^^/;/.  The  Dragon  is  killed.  i^r/V  Dkagon.] 

St.  George.      I  am  St.  George,  that  worthy  champion  bold, 

And  with  my  sword  and  spear  I  won  three  crowns  of  gold, 
I  fought  the  fiery  Dragon  and  brought  him  to  the  slaughter. 
By  which  behaviour  I  won  the  favour  of  the  King  of  Egypt  s 

daughter. 
Thus  I  have  gained  fair  Sabra's  hand,  who  long  had  won  her 

heart, 
Stand  forth,  Egyptian  Princess,  and  boldly  act  thy  part  ! 

\^Enter  TUE  PRINCESS  Sabra.] 

Sabra.  I  am  the  Princess  Sabra,  and  it  is  my  delight. 

My  chiefest  pride,  to  be  the  bride  of  this  gallant  Cluistian 
knight. 

[.St.  George  kneels  and  kisses  her  hand.     Fool  advances  and  holds  up  his 
hands  over  them.] 

Fool.  Why  here's  a  sight  will  do  any  honest  man's  heart  good. 

To  see  the  Dragon-slayer  thus  subdued  1 

[St.  George  rises.     Exit  Sabra.] 

St.  George.      Keep  thy  jests  in  thy  pocket  if  thou  would'st  keep  thy  head 
on  thy  shoulders. 
I  love  a  woman,  and  a  woman  loves  me, 
And  when  I  want  a  fool  I'll  send  for  thee. 


A  CHRISTMAS  MUMMING  PLAY.  5 1 

If  there  is  any  man  but  me 

Who  noxious  beasts  can  tame, 

Let  him  stand  forth  in  this  gracious  company, 

And  boldly  tell  his  name. 

[Trumprt  sounds  fer  St.  Patrick.; 

[St.  Patrick  stands  forth.^ 

St.  Patrick.    I  am  St.  Patrick  from  the  bogs, 
This  truth  I  fain  would  learn  ye, 
I  banished  serpents,  toads,  and  frogs. 
From  beautiful  Hibemia. 
I  flourished  my  shillelah 
And  the  reptiles  all  ran  races, 
And  they  took  their  way  into  the  sea. 
And  they've  never  since  shown  their  faces. 

\Enier  The  Prince  of  Paradine.] 

Prince.  I  am  black  Prince  of  Paradine,  born  of  high  renown, 

Soon  will  I  fetch  thy  lofty  courage  down. 
Cry  grace,  thou  Irish  conqueror  of  toads  and  frogs, 
Give  me  thy  sword,  or  else  I'll  give  thy  carcase  to  the  dogs. 

St.  Patrick.    Now,  Prince  of  Paradine,  where  have  you  been? 
And  what  fine  sights  pray  have  you  seen  ? 
Dost  think  that  no  man  of  thy  age 
Dares  such  a  black  as  thee  engage  ? 
Stand  off,  thou  black  Morocco  dog,  or  by  my  sword  thou'I) 

die, 
I'll  pierce  thy  body  full  of  holes,  and  make  thy  buttons  flj. 

[They  fight.    The  Prince  of  Paradine  is  slain.'] 

St.  Patrick.    Now  Prince  of  Paradine  is  dead. 
And  all  his  joys  entirely  fled. 
Take  him  and  give  him  to  the  flies. 
That  he  may  never  more  come  near  my  eyes. 

[Enter  King  of  Egypt.] 

King.  I  am  the  King  of  Egypt,  as  plainly  doth  appear, 

I  am  come  to  seek  my  son,  my  only  son  and  heir. 

St.  Patrick.    He's  slain  !     That's  the  worst  of  it. 


King.  "Who  did  him  slay,  who  did  him  kill. 

And  on  the  ground  his  precious  blood  did  spil! 


52 


THE   PEACE  ^^GG 


St.  Patrick.     I  did  him  slay,  I  did  him  kill," 

And  on  the  ground  bis  precious  blood  did  spill. 
Please  you,  my  liege,  my  honour  to  maintain. 
As  I  have  done,  so  would  I  do  again. 

King.  Cursed  Christian  !     What  is  this  thou  hast  done  ? 

Thou  hast  rumed  me,  slaying  my  only  son. 

St.  Patrick.     He  gave  me  the  challenge.     Why  should  I  hun  deny 
How  low  he  lies  who  held  himself  so  high  ' 

King.  Oh  !   Hector  !  Hector  !  help  me  with  speed. 

For  in  my  life  I  ne'er  stood  more  in  i\eeH. 

[Elite)-  Hkctor.] 

King.  Stand  not  there.  Hector,  with  sword  in  hand. 

But  tiglit  and  kill  at  my  command. 

Hector.  \  es.  yes,  my  liege,  I  will  obey. 

And  by  my  sword  I  hope  to  win  the  day. 
If  that  be  he  who  doth  stand  there 
That  slew  my  master's  ^on  and  heir, 
Though  he  be  sprung  from  royal  blood 
ril  make  it  run  like  ocean  flood. 

[  T/tey  fiqht.      H  kctor  is  wounded.  \ 

I  am  a  valiant  hero,  and  Hector  is  my  name. 

Many  bloody  battles  have  I  fought,  and  alway.s  won  the  same^ 

But  from  St.  Patrick  I  received  this  deadly  wound. 

S^Trumpet  sounds  /or  St.    ANDREW.] 

Hark,  hark,  I  hear  the  silver  trumpet  sound. 
It  summons  me  from  off  this  bloody  ground. 
Down  yonder  is  the  way  {pointitii:;). 
Farewell,  farewell,  I  can  no  longer  st.iy. 

[Exit  Hkcior.] 
{Enter  St.   Anurkw.  : 

King.  Is  there  never  a  doctor  to  be  found 

Can  cure  my  son  of  his  deep  and  deadly  wound  :" 

{Enter  DocroK.  1 

Doctor.  \'es,  yes,  there  is  a  doctor  to  be  found 

Can  cure  your  son  of  his  deep  and  deadly  wound. 

King.  What's  your  fee?  '        •■ 


A   CHRISTMAS   MUMMING   PLAY. 


53 


Doctor.  Five  pounds  and  a  yule  cake  to  thee. 

I  have  a  httle  bottle  of  Elacampane 
It  goes  by  the  name  of  virtue  and  fame, 
That  will  make  this  worthy  champion  to  rise  and  fight  again. 

To  PRrNCE.         Here,  sir,  take  a  httle  of  my  flip-flop, 
Pour  it  on  thy  tip-top. 

[7tf  Audience,  b(nuinq.'\ 

Ladies  and  Gentlemen  can  have  my  advice  gratis. 

{^Exeiint  King  of  Egypt,  Prince  of  Paradine,  and  Doctor.] 
[St.  Andrkw  stands  forth. '\ 

St.  Andrew.     I  am  St.  Andrew  from  the  North, 

Men  from  that  part  are  men  of  worth, 

To  travel  south  we're  nothin;^  loth, 

And  treat  you  fairly,  by  my  troth, 

Here  comes  a  man  looks  ready  for  a  fray, 

Come  in,  come  in,  bold  soldier,  and  bravely  clear  the  way. 

{^Enter  Slasher.] 

Slasher.  I  am  a  valiant  soldier,  and  Slasher  is  my  name. 

With  sword  and  buckler  by  my  side,  I  hope  to  win  more  fame. 

And  for  to  fight  with  me  I  see  thou  art  not  able, 

So  with  my  trusty  broadsword  I  soon  will  thee  disable. 

St.  Andrew.    Disable,  disable?     It  lies  not  in  thy  power, 

For  with  a  broader  sword  than  thine  I  soon  will  thee  devour. 

Stand  off.  Slasher,  let  no  more  be  said, 

For  if  I  draw  my  broadsword,  I'm  sure  to  break  thy  head. 

Slasher.  How  can'st  thou  break  my  head  ? 

Since  my  head  is  made  of  iron  ; 
My  body  made  of  steel  ; 
My  hands  and  feet  of  knuckle-bone, 
I  challenge  thee  to  feel. 

\_They  fight,  and  Slasher  is  -wounded.^ 

[Fool  advances  to  Slasher.] 

Fool.  Alas,  alas,  my  chiefest  son  is  slain  ! 

What  must  I  do  to  raise  him  up  again  ? 

Here  he  lies  before  you  all, 

I'll  presently  for  a  doctor  call, 

A  doctor  !     A  doctor  !     I'll  go  and  fetch  a  doctor. 

Doctor.  Here  am  I. 


Fool. 


Are  you  the  doctor  ? 


54 


THE    PEACE   EGG. 


Doctor. 

Fool. 

Doctor. 

Fool. 

Doctor. 

Fool. 
Doctor. 
Fool. 
Doctor. 


Fool. 
Doctor. 


dLASHKR 

Foftu 


That  you  may  plainly  see,  by  my  art  and  activity. 

What's  your  fee  to  cure  this  poor  man  ? 

Five  pounds  is  my  fee  ;  but  Jack,  as  thou  art  a  fool,  I'll  only 

take  ten  from  thee. 
You'll  be  a  clever  doctor  if  you  get  any.  [^astJe.] 

Well,  how  far  have  you  travelled  in  doctorship  ? 
From  the  front  door  to  the  cupboard, 
Cupboard  to  fireplace,  fireplace  upstairs  and  into  bed. 
So  far,  and  no  farther  ? 

Yes,  yes,  much  farther. 

How  far? 

Through  England,   Ireland,  Scotland,  Flanders,  France,  and 

Spain, 
And  now  am  returned  to  cure  the  diseases  of  Old  England 

again. 

What  can  you  cure? 

All  complaints  within  and  without, 

From  a  cold  in  your  head  to  a  touch  of  the  gout. 

If  any  lady's  figure  is  awry 

I'll  make  her  very  fitting  to  pass  by, 

I'll  give  a  coward  a  heart  if  he  be  willing. 

Will  make  him  stand  without  fear  of  killing. 

Ribs,  legs,  or  arms,  whate'er  you  break,  be  sure 

Of  one  or  all  I'll  make  a  perfect  cure. 

Nay,  more  than  this  by  far,  I  will  maintain. 

If  you  should  lose  your  head  or  iieart,  I'll  give  it  you  again. 

Then  here's  a  doctor  rare,  who  travels  much  at  home, 

So  take  my  pills,  I  cure  all  ills,  past,  present,  or  to  come. 

I  in  my  time  many  thousands  liave  directed. 

And  likewise  have  as  many  more  dissected. 

And  I  never  met  a  gr.ivedigger  who  to  me  objected. 

If  a  man  gets  19  bees  in  his  bonnet,  I'll  cast  twenty  ol  'era 
out.  I've  got  in  my  pocket  crutches  for  lame  ducks, 
spectacles  for  blind  humble-bee.s,  pack-saddles  and  pan- 
niers for  grasshoppers,  and  many  other  needful  things. 
Surely  I  can  cure  this  poor  man. 

Here,  Slasher,  take  a  little  out  of  my  boiile,  and  let  it  run 
down  thy  throttle  ;  and  if  thou  l)ees[  not  quite  slain,  rise 
man,  and  fight  again.  ,  Sl\smek  i-i.tgs.] 

Oh,  my  back  ! 

Wlials  amiss  with  thy  back  ? 


A   CHRISTMAS    MUMMING   PLAY. 


55 


Slasher.  My  back  is  wounded, 

And  my  heart  is  confounded, 

To  be  struck  out  of  seven  senses  into  fourscore, 

The  like  was  never  seen  in  Old  England  before. 

\_Tnimpet  sounds  Jor  St.   David.] 

Oh,  hark  !  I  hear  the  silver  trumpet  sound  ! 

It  summons  me  from  off  this  bloody  ground, 

Down  yonder  is  the  way  {points,) 

Farewell,  farewell,  I  can  no  longer  stay.  [Exit  Slasher.] 

Fool.  Yes,  Slasher,  thou  had'st  better  go, 

Else  the  next  time  he'll  pierce  thee  through. 

[St.  David  stands  forth.'] 
St.  David,         Of  Taffy's  Land  I'm  Patron  Saint, 
Oh  yes,  indeed,  I'll  you  acquaint, 
Of  Ancient  Britons  I've  a  race 
Dare  meet  a  foeman  face  to  face. 
For  Welshmen  (hear  it  once  again  ; ) 
Were  born  before  all  other  men. 
I'll  fear  no  man  in  fight  or  freaks. 
Whilst  Wales  produces  cheese  and  leeks. 

[^Enter  Turkish  Knight.] 
Turkish  Knight.     Here  comes  I,  the  Turkish  Knight, 
Come  from  the  Turkish  land  to  fight 
I  U  take  St.  David  for  my  foe, 
And  make  him  yield  before  I  go  ; 
He  brags  to  such  a  high  degree, 
He  thinks  there  was  never  a  Knight  but  he. 
So  draw  thy  sword,  St.  David,  thou  man  of  courage  bold, 
If  thy  Welsh  blood  is  hot,  soon  will  I  fetch  it  cold. 
St.  David.         Where  is  the  Turk  that  will  before  me  stand  ? 

I'll  cut  him  down  with  my  courageous  hand. 
Turkish  Knight.     Draw  out  thy  sword  and  slay, 
Pull  out  thy  purse  and  pay, 
For  satisfaction  I  will  have,  before  I  go  away. 
^fThey  fight.     The  Turkish  Knight  is  zuounded,  and  falls  on  one  knee.] 
Quarter !  quarter !  good  Christian,  c^race  of  thee  I  crave, 
Oh,  pardon  me  this  night,  and  I  will  be  thy  slave. 
.>  1 .  David.        I  keep  no  slaves,  thou  Turkish  Knight, 
So  rise  thee  up  again,  and  try  thy  might. 
\_They  fight  again.     The  Turkish  Knight  is  slain.] 

l^Exit  Turkish  Knight.] 


56 


THK    I'EACE   EGG. 


St.  GitORGt.      I  am  the  chief  of  all  these  valiant  knights, 

We'll  spill  our  heart's  blood  for  Old  Kngland's  rights, 
Old  England's  honour  we  will  still  maintain, 
We'll  fight  for  Old  England  once  and  again. 

\_f1ourishes  his  ytvorJ  above  his  head  and  then  lays  it  over  his  right  shoulder. '\ 

I  challenge  all  my  country's  foes. 

St.    Paikick    \jiealing  with   his  sword  in  like  manner,  and  then  taking  thi 
point  of  St.   Gkokgk's  sword  with  his  leji  hand.'] 

And  I'll  assist  with  mighty  blows. 
St.   AiNDRF.W  {acting  like  the  other.] 

And  you  shall  find  me  ready  too. 
St.  David  {the  .<atne.] 

And  who  but  I  so  well  as  you. 
Fi'Ol.   [imitates  the  A'nights,  and  they  close  the  circle  and  go  >  oiind.] 

While  we  are  joined  in  heart  and  hand, 
\  gnllaiit  and  courageous  band, 
if  e'er  a  foe  dares  look  awry, 
Well  one  and  all  poke  out  his  eye. 

\_Enter  Saladin.] 

Sai.adIN.  Don't  vaunt  thus,  my  courageous  knights, 

Vox  I,  as  you,  have  seen  some  sights 
In  Palestine,  in  days  of  yore. 
'Gainst  prowess  strong  I  bravely  bore 
The  sway,  when  all  tl'C  world  in  arms 
Shook  Holy  Land  with  wars  alarms. 
I  for  the  ciescent,  you  the  cross, 
Each  mighty  host  oft  won  and  lost. 
I  many  a  thousand  men  did  slay. 
And  ate  two  hundred  twice  a  day. 
And  now  I  come,  a  giant  great, 
Just  waiting  for  another  meat. 

St.  George.      Oh  !   Saladin  !     Art  thou  come  with  sword  in  liaiul, 

Against  St  George  and  Christendom  so  rashly  to  witlistand } 

Saladin.  Yes,  yes,  SL  George,  with  thee  I  mean  to  fight. 

And  with  one  blow,  I'll  let  thee  know 
I  am  not  the  Turkish  Knight. 

St.  George.      Ah,  Sal.adin,  St.  George  is  in  this  very  room, 

Thou'rt  come  this  unlucky  hour  to  seek  thy  fatal  doom. 


A  CHRISTMAS   MUMMING   PLAY.  5/ 

\_Enter  Little  Page  ] 

Little  Page.   Hold,  hold,  St.  George,  I  pray  thee  stand  by, 
I'll  conquer  him,  or  else  I'll  die  ; 
Long  with  that  Pagan  champion  will  I  engage. 
Although  I  am  but  the  Little  Page. 

St.  George.      Fight  on,  my  little  page,  and  conquer ! 

And  don't  thee  be  perplext. 
For  if  thou  discourage  in  the  field, 

Fight  him  will  1  next. 

{They  fight.     The  Little  PAGE/a/A.] 
Saladin.  Though  but  a  little  man,  they  were  great  words  he  said. 

St.  George.      Ah!  cruel  monster.     What  havoc  hast  thou  made? 
See  where  the  lovely  stripling  all  on  the  floor  is  laid, 
A  Doctor !     A  Doctor  !     Ten  pounds  for  a  doctor  ! 
[Dame  Dolly  dances  fonvard,  bobbing  as  before.'^ 

Dame  Dolly.   Here  comes  I,  little  Dame  Dorothy, 
Flap  front,  and  good  morrow  to  ye  ; 
My  head  is  big,  my  body  is  small. 
I'm  the  prettiest  little  jade  of  you  all. 
Call  not  the  Doctor  for  to  make  him  worse. 
But  give  the  boy  into  my  hand  to  nurse. 

To  Little  Page.     Rise  up,  my  pretty  page,  and  come  with  me. 

And  by  kindness  and  kitchen  physic,   I'll  cure  thee  witliout 
fee. 
[Page  rises.      Exeunt  Page  and  Dame  Dolly.] 

[St.  George  and  Saladin  fight.     Saladin  is  s/ain.^ 

St.  George.      Carry  away  the  dead,  Father. 

Father  Christmas.     Let's  see  whether  he's  dead  or  no,  first,  Georgy. 
Yes ;  I  think  he's  dead  enough,  Georgy. 

St.  George.      Carry  him  away  then,  Father. 

Father  Christmas  Sjiainly  tries  to  move  the  Giant's  body.'\ 

Thou  killed  him  ;  thou  carry  him  away. 
St.  George.      If  you  can't  carry  him,  call  for  help. 
Father  Christmas  [to  audience.'} 

Three  or  four  of  you  great  logger-headed  fellows, 

Come  and  carry  him  away. 
[Doctor  and  Fool  raise  the  Giant  by  his  arms.     Exit  Giant.] 


5« 


THE    PEACE   EGG. 
{^Enlcr  LiTTLK  Man  Jack.] 


Little  Man  Jack.     Here  comes  I,  Little  Man  Jack, 

The  Master  of  Giants  ; 

If  I  could  but  conquer  thee,  St.  George, 

I'd  bid  the  world  defiance. 
St.  Georoe.      And  if  thou  beest  Little  Man  Jack,  the  Master  of  all  Giants, 

I'll  take  thee  up  on  my  back,  and  carry  thee  without  violence. 

{^Lifts  him  over  his  shculdcr.'\ 

Fool.  Now  brave  St.  George,  he  rules  the  roast, 

Britons  triumphant  be  the  toast ; 
Let  cheerful  song  and  dance  abound, 
Whene'er  the  Mummer's  time  comes  round. 

\_All  sin^.'] 

Rule,  Britannia  ;  Britannia  rules  the  waves, 
Britons  never,  never,  never  will  be  slaves. 

GRAND   SWORD   DANCE. 

Cut  I  and  cross. 

Cut  2  and  cross  partner  (which  is  R.  and  L). 

Same  back  again. 

The  two  Knights  at  opposite  corners  R.  H.  Cut  i  and  cross,  and  Cut  2  willi 

opposite  Knights. 

Same  back  (which  is  Ladies'  Chain). 

Four  sword-points  up  in  the  centre. 

All  go  round— all  Cut  6— and  come  to  bridle-arm  protect,  and  round  to  places. 

Repeat  the  first  figure. 

[All  go  round,  and  then  ojit,  singing.} 

Allegro. 


Aiiesrro.                                                               ^     ^     w     ».     i 
:^^-^-n ,z^z^=z 1 3 

1  ■ ...:ii ...m t     * : ...:i! —•^l    _ 


^  -9- 

And   a    mumming  we  will  go,  will  go,  and    a  mumming  we  will  go,   with 

bright  cock  •  ade      in      all     our    hats,    We'll     go    with  a   gal  -  lant  shnv. 

[Exeunl  omnes.'\ 
GOD   SAVE   THE   QUEEN. 


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MRS.  E WING'S  WORKS. 

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SOCIETY   FOR   PROMOTING  CHRISTIAN   KNOWLEDGE, 

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F.ti.MrsTi  i-.VAvs.  I  rn.,   knc.r w  kks  Ar;i>  i'risthks,  rosF.  i'I.ace,  r.i.niiE  koazi,   (.ondon,  e.  i. 


